


Kurt Hummel & The Veela Surprise

by deshaunwalker



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Harry Potter - Freeform, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Veela, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 20:03:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deshaunwalker/pseuds/deshaunwalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt doesn't have time for nonsense. And Anderson's bullshit meter is up WAY high. Or at least, Kurt wished it was. Veela!Blaine. (soulmate fic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just To Clarify...
> 
> Kurt and the New Directions (Excluding Finn, Tina and Mike) - Gryffindor
> 
> Mike & Tina - Ravenclaw
> 
> Finn, Karofsky and Azimo - Hufflepuff
> 
> Blaine and the Warblers - Slytherin

**1.**

Blaine Anderson was damn near about to go mad.

It was only the first day back at Hogwarts, his seventh and last year, thank Merlin. But that wasn’t his current problem. That in itself was another issue, one he’d take care of as soon as he got rid of the one between his legs. He was a full-blooded veela now, as he’d come into his Inheritance just a week ago, but he hadn’t planned on finding his mate so quickly.

Blaine was sure that was what this was. A smell so, so sweet it burned his nose but warmed his lungs and that made his heart swell inside his chest. It also made his cock harder than it’d ever been, but he didn’t bother to hide his erection, even when his constant, almost— _almost_ barely audible mewling kept attracting attention his way. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out where the scent was coming from. He wasn’t surprised about that, however, as he was currently sitting in the great hall surrounded by students, waiting for the welcoming feast to begin.

“What the hell is the matter with you, Blaine?” Wes said from beside him, his eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“My mate.” He mumbled under his breath, then let out a low whine. “Want him. _Need_ him.”

Wes quirked an eyebrow as he tapped out a light tune on the table. Muggle music really wasn’t all that bad. Sometimes. “You think it’s Jeff?” He asked, then sent the blonde sitting next to him a conspiratory wink.

Jeff looked up from staring forlornly at his empty plate to Wes curiously, not having caught the conversation (or the wink), and Blaine barely withheld himself from knocking the bastard out of his chair. He wasn’t in the mood. Not right now. “ _No_. It’s not Jeff, Wes.”

“Who is it then?” Wes batted his eyelashes lightly, teasingly as if to say “Me?” but Blaine only rolled his eyes and turned away, refusing to take the bait as he continued to search the great hall for signs of his mate.

“I don’t _know_. If I did I wouldn’t be talking to you about it right now.”

* * *

Kurt Hummel was uncomfortable. Which was saying something, considering how fit his clothes normally were (and he could actually wear some of them as Hogwarts had become more lenient with the dress code and school outings in the years following the war), but this was different. He just felt… strange. There was a sharp, crisp edge to the air that he couldn’t quite identify, and it was starting to make him more and more uneasy.

Something was about to happen. And Kurt, judging by the gut feeling he had, was not going to like it.

Kurt ducked his head closer to the table, his cheeks tinting with a nervous flush as Figgins declared the start of the welcoming feast, and he filled his plate with a few of the healthier choices as they appeared on the table in front of him. He startled at the feeling of a hand on his arm, turning quickly to the brunette beside him. “Kurt, are you okay?”

“Yeah. I-I’m fine, Rach.”

Rachel stared at him for a moment before giving a light nod and saying, “Well, I’m just _too_ excited for this year, guys. Our Quidditch season is bound to be amazing what with me being promoted to both captain and Seeker…” She trailed off for a moment and looked at Kurt thoughtfully. “Kurt, you should seriously consider—”

Kurt scowled, momentarily forgetting about nasty feeling he was having. “Rachel, I am _not_ joining the Quidditch team. I’ll stick with studying with Mike and Tina.”

“You’re the only one of us not on the team.” Mercedes pointed out.

 Kurt rolled his eyes and took a bite from his salad, using that as an excuse not to respond. They’d been asking him to join the Quidditch team since first year. One would think that by now, in seventh, they would’ve given up. As Rachel, Mercedes, and his boyfriend, Chandler (who was sitting opposite of Kurt) started up a conversation about Quidditch tryouts and strategies, Kurt tuned out, taking a moment to glance absently around the great hall.

He spotted his step brother, Finn, sitting at the Hufflepuff table, laughing at something Karofsky was saying. Kurt couldn’t imagine anything that Neanderthal said being even remotely laughable. But whatever. He also saw Tina and Mike Chang, both Ravenclaw, bent over ridiculously thick text books.

It was only as his gaze traveled across the Slytherin table did Kurt’s breath catch in his throat.

Blaine Anderson was watching him.

* * *

The scent was distinctly male, that much Blaine knew for certain.

Every time he thought of it, he became just a little bit more annoyed. He’d always imagined his mate as a woman (as he was in his own mind, perfectly straight), full figured and beautiful with soft, lightly tanned features and long, flowing dark hair. He was acutely aware of, on most nights when his mind was most active, picturing her as Asian, or something of the like, as that was usually the type he went for. He was also aware that his mother would be infuriated if his mate turned out to not be of his race. But she was picky, and on most days, a bitch, and it wasn’t like Blaine had any control over this situation.

Stupid instincts.

Blaine saw Wes cast a glance across the hall to the Gryffindor table from the corner of his eye, then shake his head. “There really are more things to life than Quidditch.”

“Not that it isn’t fucking amazing or anything.” Nick cut in.

Wes waved his hand dismissively, snorting in amusement when Jeff made a dive for the closest platter of food to him as soon as the feast started and the food appeared. “Yeah, whatever.”

Blaine cast a cursory glance over to the Gryffindor table as well, wondering what the werewolf hybrid had heard, but just as he moved to turn elsewhere in search of his mate, he froze. A sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been harboring flew past his lips, as did a quiet groan when he finally, _finally_ , laid eyes on him.

_He’s so beautiful. So fucking beautiful. Wanna fuck him. Claim him. Mine. He’s mine. Mineminemine._

He hadn’t realized that he’d started to keen sharply in response to the sight of his mate, but Wes did—as did all the others beside him—and he winced and smacked Blaine in the arm. Hard.

“Dude, totally get that he’s your mate and all, but kindly shut the fuck up.”

Blaine didn’t stop keening, he was way too far gone. He hadn’t even properly registered what the boy beside him had said. His mind was one-track now and as his instincts completely took over, all he could think was _matematemate_ and wait for the beautiful boy to look up at him. He might’ve been his mate, but instinctually, Blaine’s veela knew that his call had to be acknowledged before he could proceed and go over there, rip off his clothes and claim him right in the middle of the great hall.

“What the hell is he doin’?” David muttered irritably, rubbing his temples.

“Mating call.” Jeff said around a mouthful of food. “Not that she can hear him or anything. It’s pretty noisy in here with all these fucking first years milling about.” He paused only to swallow, chug half a glass of pumpkin juice, and shove more food in his mouth before saying, “I bet she’s hot.”

“Blaine’s mate is a boy, Jeff.” Wes sighed.

Jeff’s eyebrows shot up underneath his messy hair. Where’d he been to miss that? “Oh.” He shrugged. “I be _he’s_ hot, then.”

* * *

Blaine Anderson, who had made it his life goal to torment Kurt every chance he got, all throughout first through fifth year—but had for some reason stopped in sixth—was staring at him. His gaze was so intense and weighted that it made Kurt’s cheeks flush bright. Something—Kurt couldn’t tell what it was from this far away—flickered over Anderson’s face as Kurt continued to return his gaze, and Kurt’s heart gave a solid lurch and fell into his stomach when, in one swift motion, Anderson stood and started to make his way over to the Gryffindor table where Kurt was seated.

A hush had fallen over the great hall as soon as Blaine had stood, the only sounds to be heard the clinking of silverware on plates, Blaine’s heavy footsteps, and Kurt’s harsh breaths as he started to hyperventilate the closer Blaine got. _Oh, hell what is he going to do? Hit me? Pour pumpkin juice all over me, like last time?_ Those stains never had come out of Kurt’s robes.

Rachel, ever observant, looked curiously between Kurt and Blaine, who was rapidly approaching. “Kurt, what’s going on?” She whispered hurriedly. “Did something happen over summer break that you didn’t tell me about?”

“ _No_! I-I mean, no. Nothing happened. I don’t know what the hell Anderson’s problem…”

“Kurt.”

Kurt shifted, slightly on edge at the sound of his name purring past Blaine’s lips. Since when were they on first name basis? “Anderson.” He responded sharply. “Did you need something?”

The smile Anderson gave him in response sent a chill down his spine.

“Kurt.” Anderson said again, his tea colored gaze not once faltering. “Kurt, please—”

“Kurt?” The boy in question’s eyes immediately shot to Chandler, who was gazing back at him with an almost skeptically cautious expression. Chandler pushed his square glasses up on his nose and narrowed his eyes a little. “Care to tell me what’s going on?”

 _Well, if I knew._ “I don’t—”

* * *

Blaine was getting impatient. His mate should’ve been in his arms by now. And who the fuck did Kiehl think he was, interrupting him like that? He hadn’t wanted to do this, but since Kurt was being so fucking _difficult_.

Blaine closed his eyes and took a moment to center himself before letting a small amount of his allure to settle over the occupants of the great hall to keep them from causing any trouble, and a more concentrated amount on his mate. He heard Kurt’s resulting gasp, knowing he was feeling the raw sexual energy flowing through his veins.

Perfect.

He smiled a little to himself and held out his hand, Kurt took it immediately. And as Blaine led his mate out of the great hall and down to the dungeons, not one person said a thing.


	2. Chapter 2

**2**.

_“Mine, Kurt. You’re mine. Say it.”_

_Kurt groaned as he writhed beneath Blaine, his back arching off the bed as he caved under the heat of Blaine’s touch. “I’m yours.” He said on a sigh, his cheeks flushing hotly as Blaine’s fingers grazed his most sensitive places. “All yours.”_

_“Always. Say it.”_

_“Always.”_

_Blaine gave a satisfied hum, leaning in to slant his mouth over Kurt’s for a moment before trailing kisses down his jawline to his neck. He breathed in his mate’s intoxicating scent, a mix between honey and ginger. “I love you, Kurt.” He whispered._

_The only response to Blaine’s words was a soft mewl._

_Blaine’s lips curved up into a small smile against Kurt’s skin._

_“Blaine…”_

_Blaine pressed a kiss against Kurt’s shoulder, soothing the spot with a gentle lick of his tongue before sinking his fangs into the skin._

* * *

Kurt hummed quietly as he awoke, not yet bothering to open his eyes. His body felt achy and dreadfully sore, particularly his ass and his throat. He tensed as he took notice of the arms wrapped tight around his torso, the legs tangled with his own and the thick, hard cock wedged up against the cleft of his ass.

Oh, fuck.

Had Chandler finally managed to get him drunk enough to sleep with him? Because that was the only way he would _ever_ …

Kurt blinked his eyes open, taking a moment to adjust to the lack of light behind the tightly shut bed curtains. But then, why the hell were the curtains that sickening Slytherin green?

Kurt’s eyes snapped open wide as he took in his surroundings, and suddenly, everything came rushing back to him.

Anderson leading him out of the great hall. Anderson leading him to the dungeons. To his bed. Touching him. Biting him. _Fucking_ him.

Kurt felt as if his eyes couldn’t get any wider as he screamed and scrambled to get out of Anderson’s arms and his bed. He found his clothes discarded on the floor beside the bed, and he grabbed them, not bothering to put them on as he bolted toward the door, wincing and stumbling at the sharp twinge of pain in his ass.

“KURT!”

Kurt didn’t turn back as he made it to the door, flinging it open and dashing down the stairs to the common room, not giving two fucks about the fact that he was butt ass naked. The common room was only half full, but there were still people, which made Kurt blush.

He wasn’t expecting to get stopped by one of them, though.

“Whoa, there.” The blonde, Jeff, said with a smile, grabbing hold of Kurt and stilling him, even as Kurt struggled against him. “Calm down. You’re fine.”

“Let me go!”

“KURT! Kurt, baby…” Blaine gave Jeff a sharp look and he backed off, hands up in surrender, and Blaine snatched Kurt back into his arms. “Kurt, why would you—”

Kurt ripped out of Blaine’s grasp, backing toward the portrait door. “Stay the fuck away from me!”

Blaine blinked slowly, his eyes trailing over Kurt’s body and widening a little as if only just noticing that he wasn’t wearing any clothes. His hazel eyes bled to black as he growled, turning to the other occupants of the room and demanding that they leave. They left immediately, leaving a furious Blaine and a trembling Kurt in their wake.

Blaine took a small step forward. “Baby, what’s—”

“Stop calling me that!” Kurt shouted, tears springing up in his eyes as the reality of the situation suddenly hit him. “You… you _raped_ me.”

Blaine’s steps stuttered as he had started to take another step toward his mate and he scowled. “I did _not_ —” Blaine didn’t have much of a chance to say anything else as Kurt narrowed his eyes into a glare and turned and ran out the portrait door.

Blaine tried not to worry too much about it, even though his mate had just ran out of the room and into the halls _completely_ naked. He’d see Kurt later. He’d take care of it then.

Kurt ran passed startled students, not paying much attention to the wide eyed looks he was receiving. He only stopped when he reached a secluded hallway, finally pulling on the clothes he’d held over his crotch for the last ten minutes. Kurt sniffled, pulling his wand from a discreet pocket he’d sewn in his pants and casting a simple charm, he eyed his reflection in a rusty old suit of armor.

Kurt’s hair was matted from sleep, his skin flushed pink and slightly oily from missing his moisturizing routine. His lips were nearly purple from bruising as was a very painful bite mark embedded in the flesh of his right shoulder. He smoothed a hand down over his Muggle attire, frowning at the wrinkles. He didn’t care how Muggle it was, his Alexander McQueen was precious and didn’t deserve to be treated this way. Casting spells on these fabrics ruined them (Kurt had found that out the hard way) so he’d just have to wait to give them to his dad so that they could be sent to the cleaners.

_I can’t fucking believe Anderson would…_

The thought trailed off in Kurt’s mind as his eyes welled up again. He sniffed, roughly wiped his eyes and started walking, a slight hitch in his step.

This was worse than all that stuff he’d had to go through with Karofsky last year. Karofsky might’ve stolen his first kiss, but Anderson was much worse. He had stolen his virginity.

Was he not ever meant to make his own decisions about who he wanted touching his body?

Kurt turned the corner, heading towards the one person he knew could help him.

* * *

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hummel but I cannot help you.”

Kurt gaped at Figgins, his eyes widening to the max and his perfectly manicured fingernails digging into the synthetic leather of the chair he was sitting in. “ _Excuse_ me?”

“Mr. Hummel.” Figgins cleared his throat and flicked his eyes away toward the row of bookshelves in his office. “Did you not pay attention in your History of Magic course? I know Professor Pillsbury pays more attention to cleaning than she does anything else but you should’ve learned something…?”

“I…” Kurt blinked away fresh tears. “I don’t know what that has to do with anything.”

“Veelas, Mr. Hummel. Sound familiar?”

Kurt thought for a moment. The word did sound slightly familiar, but not enough to pull any meaning from it. “I guess.”

“Well, that bite on your shoulder that you mentioned? That is not a bite. It’s a mark.” Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but Figgins held up his hand, demanding silence. “A very significant one at that. Mr. Hummel, I’m not sure how aware you are of Mr. Anderson’s upbringings, but he is in fact a full-blooded veela.”

Kurt sighed, frustrated that he still wasn’t getting it. “What does that have to—”

“Mr. Anderson didn’t rape you, Mr. Hummel. He claimed you and marked you because you are his mate.”

“I… _what_?” Anderson’s mate? What the hell? He really should’ve paid more attention in History of Magic. “I don’t understand—”

“I can’t do anything to help you, Mr. Hummel because there is nothing _to_ help. You are Mr. Anderson’s mate and I can’t legally keep him away from you without risking my own head in the process. The wizarding world has never and _will_ never tamper around with veela laws and society.”

Kurt’s eyes brimmed to filling with tears as Figgins turned to a stack of parchments on his desk and grabbed his quill, completely ignoring Kurt now that he’d said all that he had to say. “So that’s it? Y-You’re not gonna help me—”

“Mr. Hummel—”

“—Th-that fucking psycho raped me and you just act like it’s nothing?” Kurt shouted, rising to his feet. “What the fuck is the matter with you?!”

“Mr. Hummel if you don’t calm down I’ll be forced to call in reinforcements—”

“HE STOLE MY VIRGINTY, YOU ASSHOLE! H-HOW CAN YOU JUST SIT THERE AND ACT LIKE IT’S NOTHING?! IT WAS MINE! _MINE_ , NOT HIS!” Kurt voice cracked and he fell down onto his knees, his body wracked with sobs. How the hell was he going to get out of this, when, according to Figgins, there was nothing to be done?

“Mr. Hummel, please leave my office.”

Kurt stood up just as quickly as he’d fallen, glaring at Figgins as he got up and turned on his heel.

“Fuck you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**3.**

“Kurt, are you okay?”

Kurt rolled his eyes, turning the music up on his iPod and wiping his nose on his sleeve. His grandparents were Muggle, and had bought the device for him for Christmas last year. He didn’t altogether hate it, and once his father had charmed it to work inside the school he’d grown to like it even more. “ _Yes_ , Finn. I’m fine. How many times are you going to ask me that?”

Finn shrugged, his eyebrows furrowing as he sat down on the couch next to Kurt in the middle of the Hufflepuff common room. “Sorry. It’s just that you’re acting kind of strange. Like, you never wear wrinkled clothes and you never wipe your nose on your sleeve and stuff. And you haven’t eaten anything all day.” He paused for a moment, the look on his face serious as Kurt hadn’t seen in a long time. “Do I need to Floo-call your dad?”

“No!” That was the last thing Kurt wanted. He didn’t need his dad hearing about all this stuff—well, he knew he would eventually, but Kurt wanted to figure it all out for himself first. “No, Finn. Please don’t. I swear I’m fine. I _swear_.”

Finn stared at him for a long few seconds, then nodded his head slowly. He didn’t really seem to believe him, but Kurt didn’t care. As long as he didn’t call his dad.

The two sat in silence, surrounded by a few other people lingering around in the common room. Kurt turned his attention back to his book and had just gotten back into reading it when Finn spoke up again.

“So why are you sulking around in here anyway? You’ve been in here like, all day, dude.”

Kurt scowled a little. “Don’t call me ‘dude’.” And then responded with, “I don’t know. I just… I don’t really feel that good right now.”

And he didn’t. Kurt hadn’t felt good since early that morning after leaving the Slytherin dorms. It’d started out as a nagging headache, which had escalated quickly to a full blown migraine and had then somehow managed to morph itself into a full-body ache. There was a weird, tingling (and not the good kind—it actually kind of hurt) sensation just beneath his skin, seeming to be… pulling him somewhere. Or rather, urging him to go and find someone. He felt like he was about to fall apart and he had a feeling Anderson had something to do with it.

And Anderson was the last person Kurt wanted to see right now.

“We should go down to dinner. Maybe if you eat something you’ll feel a little better. And if not we can go and see Madame Pomfrey.”

Kurt stomach growled a little at the mention of food. He _was_ hungry… But he didn’t want to chance a run-in with Anderson, which was the main reason he’d been hiding out in Finn’s house anyway. This was probably the last place Anderson would look. “I don’t know, Finn. I really don’t—”

“I wasn’t asking.” Finn said as he grabbed Kurt’s hand and pulled him from the couch. “Let’s go.”

Both Kurt’s book and iPod tumbled to the floor and Kurt huffed a little, annoyed. “Wait, wait!” He picked up his things and then turned to Finn with a pleading look. “Can I at least go up to my room to get cleaned up first?” He gestured vaguely at himself and his wrinkled and stained robes and Finn scrunched up his nose in reply.

“Yeah. Sure thing. But I’m going with you.”

“Fine, whatever.”

* * *

Blaine sat in the great hall between Wes and Nick, waiting. He figured Kurt had to come out of hiding sometime to eat and if he didn’t, Blaine would go and find him.

“Do you think Hummel’s okay?”

Blaine’s hazel eyes shot to Jeff, who was in the process of shoving his second helping of food into his mouth. His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Why are you so fucking worried about it?”

Jeff just shrugged.

Blaine felt a low growl start to rip through his chest. Was Jeff trying to take his mate? He had put his hands on him this morning, without Blaine’s permission, not to mention the fact that Kurt had been naked at the time. Blaine’s growl grew louder as his eyes bled to black. He wouldn’t stand for this. Jeff would have to go.

“Why the hell is he looking at me like he wants to rip my head off?” Jeff said, his voice slightly panicked. “Wes?!”

Wes only shrugged. “He probably thinks you’re trying to take his mate. You shouldn’t ask questions about Kurt like that without giving a proper reason for it.”

Jeff turned his baby blues on Blaine, who was just starting to rise from his seat, and quickly explained. “I was just asking because he looked pretty messed up this morning. I don’t want to take him from you or anything, all right? I’m with Nick, remember?”

Blaine blinked, his eyes going back to their natural, hazel color, and plopped down back on the bench. “If you ever put your hands on him again, I won’t hesitate to—”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. So is he okay?”

Blaine frowned at him, giving a solid shrug of his shoulders. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since he ran off this morning. He thinks—he thinks I raped him.” He paused, his frown deepening just a little. “But I didn’t. He repeated after me just like I told him to. If he wouldn’t have I never would’ve… doesn’t he know that? How the hell am I supposed to explain that to him?”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “How many people do you know that actually pay attention in History of Magic, Mr. Veela?” He took a moment to push more food past his lips before saying, with his mouth still full, “He probably didn’t know what he was saying.”

Blaine guessed that Jeff had a point, but even still, “That’s not really my problem.”

There were a few moments of silence, and Blaine took a moment to actually eat something. He had barely eaten anything all day, he’d been so worried about Kurt. He knew his mate probably had to be hurting by now. This soon after the mating it was practically a death sentence to stay away from each other for this long. Blaine was just starting to feel the beginnings of a headache so he knew that Kurt was probably hurting all over by now. It was always worse off for the person that had initiated the separation, which this time had been Kurt. It would probably always be Kurt. Blaine would never, willingly, leave Kurt’s side.

Blaine released a full body sigh when the scent of his mate hit the air, his gaze immediately shooting towards the double doors. Kurt was only just walking in, practically glued to Hudson’s side, and Blaine felt another growl start to work its way up out of his throat.

“Calm down, Blaine. That’s just his brother.” Wes said, grabbing his arm and pulling him back down in his seat. Blaine hadn’t even realized he was standing. Wes didn’t let go even after Blaine was reseated. “Look at your mate, Blaine.” He said, easily holding Blaine down as he instinctually struggled against his grip to get to his mate. Wes shook him a little. “ _Look_ at him.”

Blaine stilled, doing as Wes said, and looked at his mate. _Really_ looked at him.

Kurt’s clothes were perfect, as they always were. He wore painfully tight designer white jeans and a baggy black tank, his pale robes left hanging open and fluttering around him like a cape as he and Finn made their way over to the Gryffindor table. His hair was just as perfectly coiffed as it always was. But upon closer inspection, Blaine could see it. Kurt was scared. It was all in his eyes really, that look of pure fear. His eyes were also a little puffy and slightly red, like he’d spent all day crying.

It hurt Blaine, knowing that it was likely him that had put that look on Kurt’s face, knowing he’d been the one that made Kurt cry. He didn’t want Kurt to be afraid of him.

Blaine held himself still, his nails digging into the solid wood of the table with the effort of keeping himself from striding across the hall and pulling his mate into his arms. All he wanted to do was make his mate feel better. At the very least, his touch would make all of the aches and pains Kurt felt from being away from him go away.

But they needed to talk first.

* * *

Kurt swallowed a large bite of his salad, nodding distractedly to what Rachel was saying. He was practically shaking with the effort of keeping his gaze away from the Slytherin table. He knew Anderson was there as the pain he felt had dulled with every step he and Finn had taken toward the great hall. It hadn’t gone away completely, not at all, but it was enough to keep him from going insane while he tried to eat his dinner.

He leaned a little bit more into Finn’s side, taking a sip from his glass of juice and moving to add more food to his plate when Chandler reached over and intercepted his hand. “Kurt, are you—”

Kurt ripped his hand away with a startled yelp because— _ow_. It had, for a lack of a better word, burned him when Chandler had touched him. His eyes were almost as wide as Chandler’s when he looked up to meet his gaze. “Don’t touch me.” He said, his voice surprisingly sharp. And where the hell had that come from?

All conversation at their table had ground to a halt as soon as Kurt had shouted and Chandler stared at his boyfriend with wide, confused grey eyes. “I-I—um…. Okay.”

Kurt’s only response a blank look behind narrowed eyes and he pulled his hand closer to his body, rubbing it on his pants to try and make the sharp sting go away. It didn’t.

“Kurt, honey, are you all right?” Rachel said, her voice filled with worry. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, and he flinched, but relaxed a moment later. It didn’t hurt when Rachel touched him—or Finn, he realized. So why had it with Chandler?

“Y-Yeah, Rach. I’m fine. I just don’t feel too good right now.” He returned his gaze to Chandler, who looked ridiculously hurt, and gave him a halfhearted smile. “Sorry.”

Chandler nodded a little and pressed his lips together before shooting out of his seat and practically running out of the great hall. Chandler’s best friend, Grayson Lupton, glared at Kurt for a moment before racing off after him.

Santana rolled her eyes as she slid over and into Chandler’s recently vacated spot. “What’s up with four-eyes? Pissed ‘cause Kurt won’t put out?”

“Santana!” Finn hissed, his face pulling into a grimace. “That’s my brother you’re talking about!”

Santana ignored him, her attention turning fully to Kurt. “I get you like him and whatever, but seriously Kurt? You’re hot. You could do so much better. Like… let’s say…” She turned, her eyes flitting around the great hall. When she looked back at him, she continued, “Anderson looks pretty interested in you. What about him?”

Rachel, always one for gossip, flicked her gaze across the room to Anderson, who was indeed staring unrelentingly at Kurt. “Oh, he does look interested!” She said, clapping her hands excitedly. “I mean, I love Chandler as much as the next person, but _Kurt_ —”

“Stop. Just… just stop, please?” Kurt said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “Can we just _not_?”

Kurt didn’t dare look at Anderson. The last time he’d done that he’d ended up in the  situation he was in right now. Mated to a veela.

It took him a moment to realize that he’d just recognized the fact that he was mated to Anderson. He’d resigned himself to the situation without even realizing it.

Kurt sighed a little as he went back to his dinner—he was still hungry, after all. Kurt was so engrossed in his meal that he didn’t even realize that Anderson was advancing on him until a firm hand landed on his shoulder.

He startled violently at the sudden disruption, but relaxed almost against his will as a warm feeling seemed to radiate from the spot where Anderson touched his shoulder all over his body, erasing the last of the aches away. Kurt sighed a little, and almost as if he was possessed, reached back and grabbed Anderson’s hand to pull him closer until he was flush up against his back.

He didn’t know why he did it, but he didn’t care. All he knew was that it felt good when Anderson touched him. Not like _that_ , though of course, he figured… oh goodness, why the hell was he even thinking about this?!

Kurt tilted his head back, bumping against Anderson’s chest and looking up at him with slightly round eyes. His cheeks felt a little warm, either from his earlier thoughts or from Anderson being so close, he didn’t know. “I—”

Kurt’s mouth snapped shut in surprise when Anderson lifted his free hand to graze his fingers lightly down his cheek, over his lips and his neck and into his shirt to rest warmly on his chest. “I know.” Kurt gasped quietly and blushed furiously when, upon retreat, Blaine’s thumb brushed over a hardened nipple. “We should talk.”

And this time as Blaine led Kurt from the great hall, all were quiet. Not because Blaine had used his allure, but because…

“What the fuck just happened?”


	4. Chapter 4

**4**.

Kurt closed his eyes against the feeling of Anderson pushing him up against the wall just outside the great hall, a leg slipping between his own as Anderson pressed and held him there. His fingers lightly brushed over the claiming mark on his shoulder as he stated, casually, “You look nice today.”

Kurt frowned, his fingers curling in the black silk material of Anderson’s robes even as all thought and logic urged him to push the veela away. He couldn’t, though. It felt too good to have him close. He did, however, draw the line when Anderson leaned down for what Kurt was accurately assuming was a kiss. He turned his head to the left sharply, just barely avoiding the brush of lips against lips.

“Anderson.” Kurt said, his voice a blatant warning. “I thought we were _talking_.”

Anderson leaned back a little, his light gaze firm on Kurt’s as he said, “Blaine. Please call me Blaine.”

Kurt pressed his lips together, remaining silent.

Anderson cleared his throat, leaning back a bit more so that only their lower halves were connected. Kurt blushed furiously when he realized it, his cheeks flaring brighter as he thought, _I had sex with this man last night_.

“Kurt.” He started, reaching up to press the flat of both his palms on the wall either side of Kurt’s body. “I’m sorry you think that I—that I raped you.” Both Kurt and Blaine flinched as the word left his mouth, “But I didn’t. I wouldn’t do that to you. I would _never_.”

Kurt blinked at the sudden sting of tears in his eyes. Anderson sounded so fucking sincere and couldn’t condemn him even if he wanted to. But there was still… “What’d you do then, exactly? Why don’t I remember it clearly?”

Anderson scowled, not because he was angry at Kurt for asking, or because he was upset with himself for what he’d done, but because of why he’d done it. Fucking Kiehl. Blaine hadn’t seen that fuck all day, but he had a feeling when he finally did the meeting wouldn’t be all that pleasant.

“I’m a veela.” He said, just to clarify, and the look his mate gave him suggested he already knew that. “Veelas sometimes have a few traits that normal wizards and witches don’t like a better sense of smell and sight and… and some veelas have allure.”

Kurt looked at him evenly. He was going on the notion that ‘allure’ was just as it sounded. Anderson had used some sort of veela power over him to charm him into his bed. Great. “And I’m assuming you—to me?”

Blaine nodded. “Yes. I hadn’t planned on doing it that way but your fucking—” He refused to call him his boyfriend. Even if he had been he sure as hell wasn’t anymore. “Fucking Kiehl decided our business was his—”

“He’s like that, sometimes.”

“—And then you were paying more attention to him than you were me and it pissed me the hell off. So I used a little bit of my allure to make him and everybody else pipe the fuck down and since I knew you didn’t like me at all I used quite a bit to convince you to leave the great hall with me and follow me to my dorm.”

Anderson was quiet for a moment, then, “But I didn’t rape you, Kurt. I’d never do that to you.”

Kurt swallowed hard around the sudden lump in his throat, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. “I-I know, Anderson.” He didn’t really know that, not on an active level. He didn’t really know Anderson at all. He only knew of him, of the way he used to best Rachel and the rest of his friends every time there was a Quidditch match, of the way he used to taunt Kurt each and every time he’d so much as catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of his eye. Kurt had never paid much attention to Anderson, despite trying to actively avoid him first through fifth year, he’d never had a reason too. But now he had a reason to, he’d probably be stuck to Anderson’s side until one of them finally kicked off.

Honestly, what’d he do to deserve all this drama in his life? Couldn’t he just settle down with a nice, honest (and cute) guy of his own choosing, have a few blonde haired, blue eyed kids and be done with it?

He guessed Anderson wasn’t so bad, though. Admittedly, he was quite a few steps (all right, a whole fucking _flight_ of steps) above Chandler, who was, on a good day, clingy and annoying. Couldn’t he have his eyes permanently spelled so that he didn’t have to wear those lofty glasses? And couldn’t he for once, act like he was in fact a gay man and dress so that he actually matched for once? You don’t need designer to match, and for goodness sakes—brown and purple do not go together!

Anderson, at the very least, was handsome with his olive skin, light, almost clear, bright hazel eyes and dark curly hair. He at least knew how to dress on most days and he was confident and collected.

Kurt, on most days, didn’t even know how he and Chandler had started going out. They’d been friends, just friends, since first year potions with Coach (she insisted on them  calling her coach and not Professor for some reason) Sylvester. It’d all started with Chandler’s stupid, ass-kissing friend Grayson dropping Kurt hints about Chandler having a crush on him last year, which had progressed to Chandler talking to him more and then eventually asking him out. Kurt had said yes, though hesitantly. He’d never had a boyfriend before.

Chandler was all right. Even still, though. Chandler was… Chandler.

“Blaine.” He said again, this time pleading. “Please call me Blaine.”

Kurt nodded a little. He guessed he would. It would take quite a bit of getting used to though. “Blaine.” He tested the name out on his tongue, and was pleasantly surprised at the taste. “Okay.”

“Kurt.” Blaine said, then licked his lips, “Kurt I… I have something else to—”

“Go ahead.” He interrupted, his voice soft, but loud in the quiet corridor.

“Veelas, they… they mate for life, Kurt. And what we did last night—”

“I know.” Kurt said, his fingers moving from their hold on Blaine’s robes to curl around his bicep. He looked so worried that Kurt would be upset—but Kurt had had all day to come to terms with the fact that this was Kurt’s life now. Blaine wasn’t going anywhere—Kurt knew that. He’d accepted it. Mostly. “I know we’re mates, Anders—Blaine. I went and talked to Figgins earlier and he told me.”

The pair was silent for that next few minutes, in which Blaine watched Kurt think, his expression changing with every thought that crossed his mind, but he still jumped when Kurt looked up at him, his gaze almost accusing as he said, “Why’d you pick me as your mate, Ander—goddammit, _Blaine_ —” Kurt huffed out a breath, pulling his hand back to himself and folding his arms around his waist as he pressed himself further into the wall and away from Blaine. “You’re straight.” It wasn’t a question. It was simply just fact. “I know you are. You dated Quinn, Santana, and Sugar—” He’d also had a brief fling with Rachel but he wasn’t even going to mention _that_. “And all they talked about how you… how you _fucked_ them.”

Blaine opened his mouth to speak, blinking wildly.

“Don’t even try to deny it.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Blaine said, lifting his hand, the tips of his fingers just barely grazing the baby soft skin of Kurt’s cheek. “I am straight, and I did fuck all of them, but not when it comes to you, I guess. I just came into my veela inheritance a few weeks ago, Kurt. It didn’t really take my sexuality into account when it was choosing my mate for me. I don’t really mind, though. You’re quite the catch.”

“So you didn’t even pick me? I was just something that—”

“No, Kurt. I didn’t actively choose you, my veela did and generally speaking, my veela side is a good at making these types of decisions.”

“I… Blaine.” Kurt looked away as he continued, “How’d you even know what to do, last night, if you aren’t gay or whatever?” He had checked himself over thoroughly during his shower and even despite the almost unbearable soreness he hadn’t detected any scarring or any hints of blood. Blaine had been gentle.

“My friends, Nick and Jeff, are privy to giving more details about their sex life than anyone really wants to know.”

“Oh.”

“Kurt, it’s…” Blaine trailed off, unsure of what he had been about to say in the first place.

“One more thing before I go,” Kurt said, after a moment.

Blaine’s hazel eyes snapped up to meet his blue, wide and, Kurt noticed, slightly panicked. “Go?”

Kurt ignored him. “I… at dinner I was… and Chandler he touched me and it—It _hurt_.” Kurt’s gaze skirted a little bit away from Blaine and towards the entrance to the great hall when the noise level in there suddenly skyrocketed. He figured there wasn’t anything too important going on in there—probably just some dumb fight between a couple of those idiots in Slytherin. “But I noticed when Finn and when Rachel did it didn’t even bother me—”

“That happens.” Blaine said, still stroking Kurt’s cheek. “It’s to keep you, and me too I guess, from cheating—which I would never do. When you touch someone the bond—our mate bond that is—considers to be a love interest, of sorts, it’ll burn. Where did he…?”

Kurt lifted his hand, only then noticing the wide, hand-shaped, sweltering burn on his wrist, which, now that Kurt’s full attention was on it, started to throb painfully. Kurt shook his hand out, hissing a little at the pain. “ _Fuck_.”

Blaine grabbed Kurt’s hand and brought his wrist up to his cheek, nuzzling his face against it. Kurt would’ve thought Blaine was just acting strange if the burn didn’t almost immediately stop hurting. He gave a quiet sigh of relief.

“Thank you.”

Blaine didn’t let go of his hand, still rubbing his wrist against his cheek, even turning his head to the side a little to press a soft, barely there kiss to the skin. “No more Kiehl.” The words came out as more of a growl than anything else.

Kurt had a thing or two to say about Blaine thinking he could boss him around but he knew how to pick his battles—he had a feeling they would be having many. “I—Okay. I’ll tell him we can just be friends as long as he keeps his hands off of me. I don’t think I could take too many more of these.” He gestured to his wrist, which was still being held captive by Blaine, but the skin had already healed over at Blaine’s touch.

Blaine pressed another kiss to Kurt’s wrist, this one lingering just a few seconds too long, and Kurt looked up to find Blaine staring at his lips. “Kurt.” Blaine whispered. “ _Kurt_.” Blaine leaned in, but Kurt again turned his face away, Blaine’s lips pressing against his cheek instead. Blaine didn’t seem to mind, instead content placing biting kissing along Kurt’s jawline, down his neck…

Kurt gasped, his next breath coming out as a needy whine even as he shoved Blaine away. Blaine looked at him like he’d grown a second, maybe even a third head. But Kurt couldn’t. He just couldn’t. Not this soon. “I’m sorry. I-I _can’t_.”

Blaine was petting his hair then, like he was some kind of overgrown kitten. “Don’t be sorry. It’s… I understand. It’s a lot to take in. Anything we do from this point forward will be on your terms, okay?”

Kurt nodded.

Blaine’s hand left his hair, trailing down until his fingers wrapped around Kurt’s. “Now. Would you like to go back in the great hall and eat a little bit more or are you ready for bed?”

Kurt stared at Blaine for a moment, taking a moment to let the full meaning of his words sink in. “I was thinking I’d sleep in my own dorm tonight—”

Blaine looked absolutely livid—the sudden change in demeanor was rather startling to Kurt. “With _Kiehl_?”

“And I also I thought I’d talk to Professor Pillsbury so that I learn a little bit more about veelas before we go any further—”

“Professor Pillsbury doesn’t know _shit_.”

“Well.” Kurt straightened away from the wall and gave Blaine a level look, taking a step forward. He had planned for Blaine to take a step back as well, but he didn’t budge an inch. “I’m going to talk to her anyway.”

“Kurt,” Blaine said, eyes still furious even though his face was currently pretty placid. “Kurt you have to dorm with me. We won’t be able to last a full night without each other—what you felt today, being away from me? That’s nothing compared to what the both of us would feel tonight.”

“Blaine, I’m not going to _dorm with you_. I’m sleeping in my _own_ dorm, in my own _bed_ , and there is nothing you can do about that.”

Blaine’s eyebrows creased sharply in response. “Kurt.”

“You said everything was on my terms now.”

“It is, but damn, _Kurt_.” Blaine sighed a little, running his hand over his mess of curly hair. “Fine. You can sleep in your own dorm, but when you start to feel too bad come _straight_ to me. Floo into my dorms, do not walk. I don’t want Peeves giving you any trouble.”

Kurt swallowed, feeling a little nervous at the thought. He’d never had the pleasure of meeting Peeves, but he’d heard all the stories, and he didn’t think there’d even be a time when he would actually _want_ to. “Okay.”

“Are you…?”

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna go talk to Professor Pillsbury now and then I’ll go to my dorm.”

Blaine scoffed a little under his breath, taking a shuffling step back and starting in the direction of Professor Pillsbury’s classroom. She hadn’t been in the great hall during supper and that was the obvious second place to look. Kurt followed, mostly because Blaine still had a hold of his hand. “I’m telling you she doesn’t know shit. Why don’t you just ask me whatever it is you want to know?”

“There isn’t anything specific I want to know, really. I just don’t want to be completely in the dark when it comes to these things. And I feel like anything you tell me would be insanely biased.”

“Anything she tells you is going to be memorized from some book that doesn’t even have all its facts straight. She’s not gonna be able to answer your questions, baby.”

Kurt’s cheeks warmed at Blaine calling him ‘baby’, though he remembered clearly yelling at him for it this morning. He didn’t have such a reaction this time. “Well, if she isn’t, you’re my second choice.”

The two of them stopped outside the History of Magic classroom, where the both of them could hear Professor Pillsbury milling about. Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand, kissed his cheek and watched him walk into the classroom. Though, as the door swung shut behind Kurt, he could’ve sworn he heard Blaine muttering some nonsense about being everyone’s first choice.

* * *

Well, as it turned out. Talking to Professor Pillsbury was in fact a bust. He might as well have had a conversation with a rock. Her attention span was so thin. He’d ask her a question, she’d (for a moment) look like she was going to answer it and then ask him some ridiculous question about his personal hygiene.

And all her, “ _Kurt, please, I just cleaned that desk”_ ‘s had grated on his very last nerve.

He had managed to squeeze a little bit of information out of her, however, and she had pawned a book about veelas off on him—he thought it was more to do with the suspicious brown stain on the cover than genuine generosity, but who was he to complain?

* * *

Kurt hummed a little to himself as he made his way up to the seventh year boys dorm room. It’d actually been a little bit over an hour since he’d been back (his chat with Professor Pillsbury hadn’t lasted more than ten minutes) but his girls had pounced on him before he could even put one foot through the portrait door, asking him what he had been doing with Anderson.

He had politely told him that he’d tell them later, when he had a better grasp of the situation, and steered them in a new line of gossip… which had then somehow managed to bring them to fawning over this morning’s new issue of The Daily Prophet on the sofa. The issue pictured an almost fifty year old Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy with their arms wrapped around each other and their foreheads just barely touching as they gazed “lovingly” into each other’s eyes with the headline reading _OUT! Our Savior and Ice King of Slytherin are Star-Crossed Lovers!_

Kurt hadn’t paid much attention to the paper after that, content to watch Mercedes and Rachel squeal over how cute it was.

He’d managed a sly escape an hour later, which is how he now found himself headed up the stairs to his dorm, trying to think up away to nicely break up with Chandler. Was there even a nice way to do such a thing?

Kurt startled back just a little when the door suddenly swung open in front of him and Grayson stared at him from just inside their shared dorm, his eyes narrowed in contempt. “Chandler’s been looking for you.” He said, his voice hard but somehow still devoid of emotion.

Kurt could never really get over what a creepy, clear blue this guy’s eyes were, and his gaze slid off to the side to avoid them. He caught sight of Chandler sprawled out on his bed, his curtains only half-closed. Kurt rolled his eyes. “He’s not gonna find much of anything staring at the ceiling like that, now is he?”

“You should talk to him. You hurt his feelings back there.”

Kurt took a slow breath, finally lifting his gaze to Grayson’s. “Mind your own _fucking_ business.” He didn’t know why he was suddenly so angry, but goddammit he was that _and_ annoyed. He’d had a long day and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with Grayson’s nonsense. He shoved past him into the dorm, spotting Puck, Artie and Sam sitting in a slight circular formation on Artie’s bed, playing a game or something. Kurt ignored the way Chandler sprung out of bed at the sight of him, making his way over to the chest beside his neatly made bed and pulling out a fresh towel, his night clothes, his bath soap and his moisturizers.

“Kurt—”

Kurt only narrowly avoided Chandler’s touch and as he whipped around, he pointed a finger in his face and said. “I fucking told you not to touch me.”

Kurt watched the way Chandler’s eyes started to brim with tears and was surprised at how much he just didn’t care. Well, he _cared_. But not on the level that someone should when they’ve been in a relationship with a person for almost a year.

Kurt stepped around Chandler, who was blocking his path, and made his way for the door, tossing over his shoulder, “I’ll talk to you when I get back.”

He took his time showering, not at all as frightened as he’d been earlier that afternoon when he’d made Finn stand watch just outside the bathroom door because he’d been afraid Anderson was going to come for him. He ran the tips of his fingers lightly over the mark on his shoulder as he soaped up his skin. It’d been just under twenty four hours since he received it but he had a feeling the mark wasn’t just going to heal and go away, at least not completely. It’d likely be branded on his skin that he belonged to Blaine Anderson for the rest of his life.

Kurt went through his moisturizing routine, even rubbing a little bit of cream over the mark when he saw that the teeth incisions were still surrounded by a purpling bruise. Kurt dried his hair with a quick spell, applying only a little bit of product to keep it from getting too dry.

Kurt gathered his things and made his way back to his dorm, more than a little unsettled to find Chandler sitting patiently on the end of his bed. Kurt took a moment to fold his clothes and put the rest of his things away before moving to sit beside him, leaving a good foot and a half of space between them. He noticed Grayson across the room on his own bed not even trying to pretend not to be paying attention and made a face before pulling out his wand and casting a simple, but still pretty strong silencing charm around him and Chandler.

He was quiet for a few seconds before he let out a slow breath and said, “Chandler, I’m sorry but I—”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

Kurt bit his lip, looking away. “I—yes.”

“Why?” Chandler’s voice came out as a whine, thick with tears.

“It’s complicated.” It _was_ complicated, but if anything Kurt knew he owed Chandler a proper explanation. At the very least. “I… um. You know Blaine Anderson?” Chandler nodded, pushing this thick-rimmed glasses up and off so that he could wipe the wetness from his eyes. “Well, as it turns out he’s a veela and I’m his… uh. Mate.”

Chandler blinked wipe-eyed at him, sniffled, then after a moment his eyes narrowed into a glare. “Kurt, if you want to break up with me just do it. You don’t have to make up some elaborate _lie_.”

_What the hell makes him think I’m lying_? “I’m n—” Kurt sighed sharply. _Pick your battles. Pick your_ fucking _battles._ “You know what? Fine. You’re right. Whatever.” With a wave of his wand, he canceled the silencing spell. “I’m sorry Chandler but it’s just—”

“So that’s it?” The sudden sharpness of Chandler’s voice, the harsh, underlying anger startled Kurt into silence. “We’re over?”

Kurt was aware of the rest of the guys turning their attention on them. “Yes?”

“ _Why_? I mean, honestly?”

“I told you why, Chandler but you’re apparently dead set on not believing me.”

“Kurt,” Chandler reached for him, and Kurt moved back a little to avoid him. “I know you’re lying. Anderson of all people? You fucking hate that guy.”

“Chandler—”

“Kurt, we love each other!”

Kurt was tired of this conversation already. Just tired in general, really. “ _Chandler_ —”

“Kurt, _please_.” Chandler reached for him again and Kurt tried to move away but Chandler caught him by the collar of his night shirt and pulled him in close. Kurt made a loud sound of protest at the expensive fabric being stretched but all thoughts of that flew out of his mind when Chandler grabbed his face in both hands and forced him into a kiss.

White-hot pain shot up through his nerve endings and Kurt _screamed_ , trying fruitlessly to wrench himself away only to have Chandler pull him in closer, a hand going to the nape of his neck, the other grabbing hold of his arm. And, _oh my god stop touching me_.

Kurt’s screams turned into sobs as Chandler kept kissing him, kept touching him, but then suddenly the weight of Chandler wasn’t on top of him anymore, and Kurt curled into the cooler body behind him, even though it didn’t lessen the pain or stop his tears.

“What the hell is the matter with you, man?” Kurt recognized the voice as Sam, the same boy holding him tight against his chest but Kurt still tuned him out as he started a shouting match with Chandler over his head.

“Porcelain? Porcelain, look at me.” Kurt turned to look at Puck, who was wearing a worried expression, not resisting even a little when he grabbed him and started to pull him out of the dorm and down into the common room, Sam close on their heels. “Kurt, you’re fine. You’re fine. Stop crying.”

Stop crying? He couldn’t even stop shaking. It felt like his skin was on _fire._

“Kurt, what do you need?” Sam asked, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

Kurt looked up at Sam, trying to blink his way past the pain. “I need… I-I need…”

And suddenly, everything went black.

* * *

Blaine heard Wes’ deep, guttural growl long before the scent hit him and he sprung up in his bed, excited. “Kurt’s here.”

“But he’s not alone.” Wes said from his spot in the bed beside Blaine’s, his nostrils flaring just slightly. “There’s someone else. I can’t really place the scent—”

The door to their dorm flew open before Blaine even had the chance to consider going downstairs to greet his mate and a boy who Blaine immediately recognized as Puckerman stood in the doorway cradling a limp-bodied Kurt to his chest.

Blaine froze for a second, and in that second, he took in everything he could about his mate. His hair was a little messy, his beautiful, milky white skin flecked with soot from the Floo. Blaine also noticed how red Kurt’s cheeks and lips  were and when he looked closer he noticed that the skin was just starting to blister… the same way his hand had earlier that evening when Chandler had touched him.

The growl ripped through him like a wave, startling Puckerman back a few steps, almost causing him to lose his grip on Kurt. Blaine was there, quick as lightning, snatching his mate out of the stranger’s arms.

Blaine gently laid Kurt down on his bed, only then talking notice of the blistering skin over the expanse of his arms. Blaine stroked his hands over Kurt’s skin, hoping to ease Kurt’s pain, but there was really no way for him to tell if he was helping without Kurt being able to say so himself. The tips of Blaine’s fingers lightly brushed over Kurt’s lips and he sighed a little bit to himself as he checked Kurt over for more blisters. He didn’t find any. He pressed a kiss to Kurt’s skin, taking a moment to breathe in his soothing scent before he stood and forcefully shut the curtains on his bed. He turned back to Puckerman, who was still standing awkwardly in the doorway.

Blaine stalked closer, but didn’t stray too far from his bed. “What the fuck happened?”

Puckerman raked a hand over his ill-received mohawk, his dark eyes rolling up toward the ceiling. “I don’t even really know, man.” He sighed, but when Blaine took another step toward him he said quickly, “He just kind of—him and Chandler had some kind of fight at dinner earlier and Kurt got pissed and told him not to touch him. And then you… And then after when he came back to our room he started talking to Chandler about something. I-I think he was trying to break up with him but then Chandler got super pissed and grabbed him and started trying to kiss him but then Kurt was screaming and then he was crying and then he—he asked for you before he—” Puckerman swallowed hard and gestured helplessly to Blaine’s bed, more so Kurt’s prone form lying just behind the thick curtains. “Passed out.”

Blaine turned to look at Wes, who had come to stand beside Blaine during the middle of Puckerman’s tirade. “Sounds like he just blacked out from the pain.”

“Pain?”

Blaine ignored Puckerman and let Wes handle it, having to literally force his body to turn and walk back to his bed. He needed to worry about Kurt right now. He’d have time to go and kill Kiehl  later. Blaine burrowed around Kurt protectively, curled up as close as he could possibly get to  his back, his arms wrapped tight around his torso and his face buried in the sweet smelling spot at the nape of his neck. He wrapped them both in blankets and then settled back down against him.

As Blaine’s fingers stroked lightly over Kurt’s abdomen, he was surprised at the sudden sting of tears in his eyes. He knew that his mate would be all right, but just the thought of someone that wasn’t him putting their hands, their lips on what was his made something deep-seated and ugly rise and burn in his chest. And just the thought of how much it had hurt Kurt for Kiehl to put his hands on him, enough for him to pass out.

It made Blaine’s heartache to think of it. He should’ve been there. That was where he belonged, right by Kurt’s side.

But that was fine, because he was never leaving his mate’s side again. Not for one second.


	5. Chapter 5

**5**.

Kurt woke with a startled, watery gasp, his eyes flying open and tears spilling down his cheeks as he screamed and cried and, “ _Kurt_.”

Kurt froze, blinking away the last, bleary images of his nightmare and relaxing only minutely when he recognized Blaine’s voice. He bit his lip, his wet cheeks flushing crimson as he took notice of his and Blaine’s position. Blaine was spooned right up against Kurt’s back, his arm strewn low over his waist and his crotch pressed right up against the swell of Kurt’s ass. He was so close that he was able to press his face right up against Kurt’s, nuzzling a little and kissing his temple, his morning scruff scratching against Kurt’s skin as he asked quietly, “You okay, baby?”

Kurt shifted forward to put a little space between them and sniffled softly, startling both himself and Blaine when he whipped around to face him, words spewing from his lips faster than he could contain them because— _I have to tell him. I_ have _to. He could probably fucking smell him on me anyway and then he’s going to think that I cheated or something. Not that I really care what he thinks but I don’t really want to know what veelas get like when they’re pissed_ —“Chandler, he—”

Blaine reached out and pressed the tips of his fingers to Kurt’s cheek, silencing him. “I know.”

Kurt’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “You—”

“Puckerman told me.”

“Puck tol—oh. _Oh_.” Of course. He was so stupid. How the hell did he think he’d gotten up here to Blaine’s dorm anyway? He felt kind of dumb for not realizing it, or remembering it, rather, but he thought that might have had something to do with the fact that he’d just woken up. From a nightmare, no less. He stared at Blaine for a moment, almost hyperaware of his touch on his skin. “And you’re not… mad?”

Blaine didn’t even hesitate, something dark and foreign flashing across his face as he mumbled, “Yes.” His fingers curled to cup Kurt’s cheek as he started to shy away, his gaze fixated on the way his thumb was lightly brushing over Kurt’s wet, swollen lip. “But not at you.”

“Blaine.” Kurt didn’t think Blaine noticed when his touch became more than gentle, the way his fingers started to morph into sharp claws and Kurt hissed a little when they started to dig into his skin. “Blaine!”

Blaine’s hold eased up, though he didn’t move away from Kurt completely. He shifted closer, closing the foot of space between them Kurt had made just a few minutes before. When he met Kurt’s gaze, Kurt was a little bit more than frightened to see that his eyes had bled to a shade blacker than coal. He leaned in, nosing against Kurt’s neck, scenting him. “I’m going to fucking kill him.” Before Kurt could even think up a way to talk him out of that, Blaine continued, “And I’m not taking my eyes off you for one second.”

Kurt rolled his eyes at that, rolling over in the bed and away from Blaine nosing down his chest in that same second, a blush creeping high up on his cheeks. He wrapped his arms around himself at Blaine’s heated look and said, his voice a little higher than normal, “There’s no way you could possibly babysit me every second—classes start today, anyway. I’ll be fine.”

He heard Blaine mumbling under his breath about something as he watched Kurt sit up, and Kurt was only able to make out an annoyed, “I’ll have to talk to Figgins about that.”

“I… I think I need to go get my things ready for classes.” Kurt said after a few moments of silence as he patted down his pants, not at all sure if he even had his wand on him—he didn’t. He frowned a little bit to himself at the realization and scooted a little bit closer to the edge of the bed as he parted the curtains. He tossed Blaine a look over his shoulder. “So I guess I’ll see you la…” He trailed off at the level look Blaine was giving him.

Blaine cleared his throat and said, “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you walk around by yourself? Practically _to_ him? Without your wand, no less.”

“How did you know I don’t have my wand?”

He waved his hand. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not letting you go up there by yourself—”

“So what—?”

“I’m coming with you.” Blaine threw his blankets back and pushed the curtains aside to take a look at the world outside his bed. All of the other bed curtains were still shut tight, which normally wouldn’t mean anything, but the fact that Wes (who was an early riser) was still asleep meant that they probably still had a couple hours or so to spare before they’d need to make their way to the great hall to get their class schedules.

Blaine leant back to reach under his pillow to grab his wand and pressed it into the palm of Kurt’s hand. “I’m going to get ready and then we’ll head up to your dorm, okay?”

Kurt made a soft, confused sound in the back of his throat as he stared down at Blaine’s wand, the oak a little heavier than the wood of his own. “You want me to…?”

“Stay here.” Blaine said with a small nod. He seemed to consider something for a few seconds before he finally came out and said, his eyes a little darker than they’d been a moment earlier, “And if anyone bothers you I want you to tell me. Immediately.”

_So he gave me the wand to “protect” myself in case one of his supposed friends decides to come at me, huh? Good to know I have nothing to worry about._ “I’m not just going to sit here while you go do whatever the hell it is you do in the mornings, Blaine, my _face_ —”

“There’s nothing wrong with your face, Kurt. You look beautiful.” Blaine murmured with a warm, dopey grin.

Kurt ignored how hot his face felt in favor of continuing on, “I didn’t moisturize last night and I’m going to need at least an hour to contain the damage that that’s going to do to my skin—”

“I’ll be quick then.” Blaine pressed a kiss to Kurt’s temple before grabbing his things and heading out of the room, out of Kurt’s sight.

Kurt sat back against the headboard of Blaine’s, now familiar, bed, gripping the wand in his hand a little tighter as nervousness swallowed him whole.

He was like a sitting duck here in the Slytherin dorms. It wasn’t like there was really any animosity still between the Slytherins and Gryffindors now after the war, but after last night with Chandler it made Kurt uncomfortable to be in a room full of boys he didn’t really know.

It turned out all of Kurt’s worrying was pretty pointless, as in the time of Blaine’s absence, the only thing that greeted him was silence and Blaine’s threatening-looking friend Wes. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t gripped Blaine’s wand in a more defensive pose when he emerged from his bed with such a flurry of motion it startled Kurt out of his thoughts. His heart had jumped in his throat and he’d let out a yelp so loud he was surprised Blaine hadn’t come running out of wherever he’d ran off to.

 Half an hour later, Blaine appeared in the doorway of his dorm, his expression hard and unreadable until his gaze finally landed on Kurt, who was in the exact spot where he’d left him. Kurt couldn’t help but notice Blaine let out a deep sigh as he made his way over and the way his hair still curly and damp from his shower, his button down left hanging open, giving Kurt an admittedly spectacular view of Blaine’s toned chest.

Blaine’s hazel eyes ran over Kurt for a moment and Kurt stared back at him, wondering why Blaine was looking at him that way. Maybe it was a veela thing. “Did anyone bother you?” He asked as he started to button up his shirt. Kurt shook his head as he watched Blaine finish up the buttons and then loop his tie into a knot around his neck. “I should be done in a moment…” Blaine said with a soft smile. “I just need to gel my hair and then—”

“You should leave it.” Kurt said, before he could properly reign the words in.

“I’ll be—what?” Blaine’s thick eyebrows lifted almost up to his hairline as his hand froze midair, halfway from retrieving his wand from Kurt. “I should what?”

Kurt hesitated a brief moment before sighing shortly and gesturing toward Blaine’s hair. “Y-You should leave it. Your hair? It looks better without all the gel.”

The smile Blaine gave him in response was so open and warm it made Kurt’s heart swell in his chest. His breath caught in his throat when Blaine suddenly surged forward, kneeling on the edge of the bed and leaning in toward his face.

Blaine stared for a moment, his wide smile dying down to a modest, but amused smirk. “You like my hair?” He said, his eyes bright and his voice soft, for Kurt’s ears only.

Kurt’s teeth lightly scraped over his bottom lip as he gave a barely perceptible nod, the wand dropping into his lap as he lifted his hand to ghost his fingers over Blaine’s curls. “Yeah…”

Blaine gave a soft hum, moving in that last few inches to press his lips to the spot just at the corner of Kurt’s mouth. When Kurt didn’t make a move to stop him, he turned his head just a little to fully cover Kurt’s mouth with his own, having to fight himself to keep from taking advantage when Kurt’s mouth opened under him in a wanton gasp. He licked his lips greedily when he pulled away, unable to get enough of the heady, natural taste of Kurt in the morning without the taste of toothpaste and chapstick clouding his senses.

Kurt was watching him—Blaine could feel it, but he could help it. Kurt was addicting. “I… yeah. Okay.” He said, not quite meeting Kurt’s gaze. His cock had hardened within seconds, anxiously pressing up against the fly of his dress slacks. He didn’t want to look at Kurt right now—he knew if he did he’d catch sight of his rosy, swollen lips end up picturing the way his cock had easily slipped between them and fucked his throat the night before last. He’d probably end up jumping Kurt and that would likely go as well as it had the first time around. “For you.”

Blaine’s gaze fell to Kurt’s lap and he let out a soft, quivering breath as he reached forward and grabbed his wand, biting back a moan at the way his hand caressed the inner seam of Kurt’s thigh. He was so, so warm. And his crotch was so, so close. Just a little bit further and he could…

When Kurt’s fingers tangled with his Blaine lifted his eyes. Kurt was blushing furiously, but Blaine couldn’t recall a moment this morning when he hadn’t been. He sighed softly, the corners of his mouth tilting up into a shy smile. “W-We should go to Gryffindor Tower now. It’s getting late…”

“All right.” Blaine picked up his wand with purpose this time, directing toward his messy hair and casting a quick drying spell. He shoved the wand into the pocket of his robes before reaching out to grab Kurt’s hand to help him up from the bed.

Blaine greeted his dorm mates and gave Jeff only a few seconds of his time before he wrapped his arms a little tighter around Kurt and led him down the stairs, past the giggling girls in the common room and out the portrait door into the corridor. The two of them got a few curious looks from their passing peers but Blaine ignored them as much as he could, though he did admit to pressing himself a little further into Kurt’s side every time some guy decided to look his mate over with interest.

“Blaine, this is ridiculous.” Kurt said as he shoved the annoying veela away from him for the third time.

“Can’t help it.” Blaine whined lowly, “They keep looking at you.”

“I’m sure it’s more because my hair is sticking up than anything else—or maybe because I’m doing the equivalent of a walk of shame with you hanging off me like I’m some kind of—”

“Maybe I should have Figgins make an announcement.” Blaine pitched his voice a little deeper into a lilting accent that closely resembled their headmaster. “Anyone that looks at Kurt Hummel even slightly in the wrong way is subject to get their eyes clawed out by his veela.”

Kurt gave a delicate snort of amusement, but chose not to respond. The two made their way up the steps to Gryffindor Tower in comfortable silence, Blaine’s fingers wrapped firmly around Kurt’s the entire way.

They made it through the common room without incident—only when they reached the seventh year boys dorms did they have a problem.

“Kurt! Oh my god, Kurt!” Kiehl seemed to quite literally jump out at the couple, his arms out like he was about to hug Kurt or something, but then he noticed Blaine stepping into the room behind him and his arms flopped back down to his sides quickly. “Oh.” He said, his voice suddenly sharp and cutting. “Anderson, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Kurt blinked quickly, surprised. He’d never heard Chandler talk like that before—well, outside of the few and far between moments when Kurt had allowed them to engage in semi-sexual activities. Blaine had plastered himself right up against Kurt’s back, his breathing slowly rising in pace as he became more upset at the nonsense that was spewing out of Chandler’s mouth.

Chandler was going on about how Slytherins weren’t welcome up here in the Tower, how slimy snakes should stay down in the dungeons where they belonged, and he’d just reached out to grab Kurt and pull him into the dorm when—

“Blaine!” Kurt’s voice was higher, sharper than it’d ever been as Blaine slipped out from behind him, a clawed hand latching onto Chandler’s wrist, his fingertips only inches from brushing Kurt’s skin. He watched as Blaine twisted the wrist behind Chandler’s back, the boy’s mouth opening  around hollow shout of pain. He knocked the blonde boy onto his back on the cold hardwood floors, his hand leaving Chandler’s wrist to wrap around his narrow throat.

“Blaine, _please_ —”

Kurt was cut off by an enraged growl erupting from the veela’s chest, and he watched, helpless, as his mate’s clawed fingers tightened even further around his ex-boyfriend’s neck, cutting into the skin and causing Chandler to start to bleed out.

“Get the _fuck_ away from me.” Blaine shouted, so sudden and out of place that for a moment, Kurt thought he was talking to him, but when he looked up, he realized Grayson was hovering a foot or so away, his wand aimed at Blaine and a stunning spell just on the tip of his tongue. Only then did he notice Puck and Sam hanging back as well, in various states of dress, and also the small crowd of onlookers that had flooded in and blocked the doorway.

Kurt felt a hot blush start to creep up his cheeks and his eyes started to burn with fresh tears because dammit, he’d caused this. He should’ve snuck out of Blaine’s dorm when he’d had the chance. He should’ve—he should’ve done anything and everything in his power to avoid the two of them clashing like this.

But he hadn’t. And now Chandler was getting hurt because of him.

“Kurt.” He looked back at Blaine to find his normally bright hazel eyes black as night with fury. And Kurt wasn’t scared, no, but he’d admit that he didn’t like seeing the way the expression contorted Blaine’s normally handsome features into something otherworldly and untamed. “Go get ready for classes.”

Kurt shook his head roughly, his eyes going to Chandler and taking in the way he was already starting to go blue with the lack of air flowing through to his lungs. “I—”

“ _Go_.”

Kurt stop-started in the direction of his bed to get his things, and only when he was halfway through his shower did he realize Blaine had used his allure. “Goddammit.” Kurt ducked his head under the shower spray to rinse off the last of the conditioner and did another full body rinse before he quickly shut off the spray. He wrapped a fluffy blue towel around his waist before practically sprinting from the showers and—running right into Puck.

Puck grabbed onto his arms before his feet could slip out from under him on the damp tile floor, his lips quirked up in an amused smile, though his eyes told a whole other story.

“Blaine,” Kurt breathed, “Did he—Chandler—?”

Puck shook his head as he righted Kurt and directed him to the counter where his moisturizers and clothes were already all set up. “Nah. He tried to though. I’m pretty sure he would’ve if Figgins wouldn’t have showed.”

Kurt let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “Oh my god.”

“Figgins escorted him out but he—Blaine told me to keep an eye on you until he made it down to the great hall.”

Kurt nodded a little, gripping the counter and staring at his reflection in the mirror for a moment before dropping his eyes down to the moisturizing potions spread out across the counter. “What time is it?”

Puck drew his wand from his pocket and cast a quick charm, then said, “Almost 7:15. So you still have a little time to do your moisturizing shit. Classes still don’t start for another hour.”

“Okay… Do you mind if I have a little privacy?” The question was rhetorical and it seemed like Puck knew that as he gave Kurt a two-finger salute in response and stepped out of the bathroom, shutting the door tight behind him.

Kurt sped through his moisturizing routine, what was normally a 45 minute process cut down to just 20. He did take his time pulling on his clothes though, and also styling his hair, but he was done within a reasonable amount of time for him and Puck to still be able to make it down to breakfast—and also for him to have a few stern words with Blaine.

When Kurt and Puck finally made it to the great hall, Kurt was more than a little surprised (and annoyed) to find that Blaine wasn’t occupying his usual spot dead center of the Slytherin table. And with a short glance at his own and the head table he noticed Chandler and Figgins weren’t there as well.

“Do you…” Kurt started, his voice just barely above a whisper. “Do you think Blaine got in trouble?”

Puck’s hand came up, pressing firmly into the center of his back as he urged him forward, further into the great hall toward the Gryffindor table. “I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure your boy would want you to get something to eat, so…”

 Kurt was silent for the rest of breakfast. He was silent as he ate, as he received his class schedule (who the hell decided it was all right to give him double potions with Coach Sylvester so early in the morning) and as he passed worried glances between the Slytherin table and the entrance doors every time someone stumbled in.

His worry for Blaine only grew when by 8:15, he still hadn’t showed. He slipped into an empty seat in his potions class, starting to wonder if he should go to Figgins’ office to see what was going on when the veela suddenly darted into the classroom just as the late bell was starting to ding. Unsurprisingly, Sylvester didn’t say anything about his tardiness—she was head of Slytherin after all—but Kurt knew if it would’ve been anyone else she would’ve been all over them.

Blaine glared at the poor girl who’d taken the spot beside Kurt until she grabbed up the books she’d already spread across the table and moved off to a seat across the classroom. Blaine side-eyed Kurt for a moment before turning to fully face him, reaching forward and grabbing one of the hands that was folded on his lap.

“Are seriously mad at me right now?”

“Yes. And worried. What happened with Figgins?”

“Nothing. I explained the situation to him, told him I was well within my rights as your mate and your protector to end Kiehl’s life.”

Kurt let out a sharp sigh, rubbing roughly at the spot between his eyes and lowering his voice to personal conversation level as he said, “I don’t want you killing people for me.” Kurt paused, then, “In fact, I don’t want you killing anyone at all. I know you’re a veela and you don’t think the same way everyone else does but… It’s just not right, Blaine.”

Blaine brought Kurt’s hand up to his face, his soft lips lightly brushing over his knuckles as he spoke. “Fine. I won’t kill anyone—unless it’s completely necessary. And I’ll leave Kiehl alone for now, but I fucking swear if he tries something with you again…”

Kurt’s lip caught between his teeth, and for a moment, he struggled with himself. He wanted to say something to Blaine, wanted to make him promise to leave Chandler alone. Because Kurt _knew_ Chandler. The two of them had been friends for years—and had been boyfriends for one of them. Chandler was stubborn. Almost as stubborn as Kurt Hummel himself, but that was what worried Kurt. Chandler wasn’t the type of guy that begged off after being knocked down. And chances were he wasn’t going to leave Kurt alone after that incident with Blaine earlier this morning, if anything it’d make him more adamant. Kurt didn’t want Chandler ending up in even worse shape because of him—because he ended up liking, or even (if his words were to be believed) falling in love with the wrong person.

Kurt didn’t want Chandler’s death on his hands.

But even still, Kurt found himself biting back all those words that threatened to spew forth and tilted his head in a cursory nod.

“Okay?” Blaine said.

Kurt swallowed hard as the words tried to vomit their way out of his mouth again, giving Blaine’s hand a firm squeeze.

“Okay.”


	6. Chapter 6

**6**.

Kurt snuffled a little in his sleep, pressing his face further into his pillow. Well, Blaine’s pillow. He’d been at war with himself for the last couple of nights in which he’d had to Floo into the Slytherin dorms to rid the incessant buzzing-uncomfortableness that came with being away from Blaine for long periods of time. He’d start out the night in his own dorm but, inevitably, he’d end up here.

Blaine wasn’t too bad of a sleeping partner, anyway. And over the last two days Kurt had gotten to know him a bit better and he guessed he wasn’t that bad of a guy, either.

Though that didn’t stop him from adamantly refusing every time the subject of him permanently moving into Blaine’s dorm came up or shunning the veela every time he tried to cop a feel.

Kurt had drawn the line at light, non-intrusive kisses, even though he’d had to raise ten kinds of hell to get his way.

* * *

_Kurt had been more than a little antsy in the hours following his unsettling conversation with Blaine. The thought had been weighing heavily on his mind._

Chandler’s going to get hurt because of me. Again _._

_Kurt didn’t want anything to happen to Chandler. They might not have been boyfriends anymore but they were still_ friends _and on some level, Kurt cared about his wellbeing. He didn’t want him hurt. Not because of him, at the very least, and he was going to have to man up and tell Blaine to leave Chandler alone._

_It took Kurt a while to decide what he was going to say and to gather up his courage—not because he was afraid of Blaine, but because he knew how upset the veela was going to be about everything. He didn’t want Blaine mad at him just as much as he didn’t want Chandler getting hurt._

_But if he had to choose between the two… Blaine would just have to get over it._

* * *

_Blaine knew something was wrong with Kurt. He wasn’t altogether sure what it was but he could practically feel his mate worrying over something, the lines etching deeper and deeper into his beautiful skin until finally, later on that day in the great hall at dinner Blaine reached over and smoothed out the worry lines on his forehead._

_Kurt looked up at him, startled. Blaine’s felt his lips curl into a soft smile. “You’ll get wrinkles.”_

_Kurt returned his smile, but it was only a halfhearted flash of teeth, and his gaze wandered across the hall to the Gryffindor table. He stared for a moment, then blinked, his fingers curling around Blaine’s hand which had slid down to cup his cheek warmly. Kurt stared down at their laced fingers on his lap as he said, “I need to talk to you about something.”_

_Blaine’s fingers tightened around Kurt’s as he tensed, immediately thinking the worst. “Oh?”_

_Kurt’s light gaze flicked up to meet his briefly. “Yeah. I-It’s not really…” He trailed off, then, “I don’t want to talk about it here.”_

_Blaine was on his feet in an instant, settling his hand more comfortably in Kurt’s so that he could help him out of his seat and quickly take them somewhere more private._

_Kurt was practically hyperventilating by the time he was sitting next to Blaine on a plush leather couch in the Room of Requirement. He’d never been in the Room before, hadn’t even known where it was, but Blaine had led them straight to it like traveling to the Room of Requirement was a part of his daily routine. It likely was, for all Kurt knew. He didn’t know Blaine well enough yet to be able to judge these types of things._

_“Kurt?” Blaine’s voice was soft and tentative when he spoke, and he reached over and grabbed his mate’s hand which had gotten away from him when they’d been walking over to the couch. “You okay?”_

_Kurt nodded as he let out a slow, calming breath, squeezing Blaine’s hand a little to reassure him. I-I’m fine. Just a little worried. I…” He trailed off for a moment, but Blaine sat next to him, holding his hand and waiting patiently for him to gather his thoughts. It took Kurt a minute, but eventually he carried on. “I understand that veela mate pairs are for life, and I think that if we’re going to have to spend that much time together it’s important to establish some level of trust.” His gaze lifted from their clasped hands to meet Blaine’s eyes expectantly._

_Blaine startled a little at the sudden attention, surprising himself, but even still he nodded eagerly. “Yeah. I—of course.”_

_Kurt gave his own short nod in response, his gaze hardening as he said, “Okay…. So I would like to talk about this morning.” He paused for a moment to swallow hard, fiddling with the edge of his robes, avoiding Blaine’s gaze completely. “A-And the night you claimed me.”_

_Blaine had a feeling he knew where this was going, but he didn’t say anything, just waited for Kurt to finish._

_“If we’re going to be together, I want to be able to make my own decisions. When I say something or do something you don’t agree with, I don’t want you to just use your allure to make me do what you want anyway.”_

_“I guess I can understand that.” Blaine said. “Kurt, I promise I won’t—”_

_Kurt shook his head sharply, effectively silencing him. “If you can understand that,” Kurt said, his voice wavering a little as if he were nervous—which he was. “Then I think you should also be able to understand the reasoning behind me wanting to take an Oath.”_

_Blaine ripped his hand from Kurt’s as the other boy pulled out his wand, shooting up from the couch and stumbling a few feet away before whipping back around to face him. His expression was severe, a mix between hurt and pissed. Kurt had expected him to be mad about it, but he hadn’t really anticipated him being hurt over it. “What the fuck are you trying to say?” Blaine shouted. “You don’t fucking trust me enough to just take my word for it?”_

_Kurt sighed softly. “I’m sorry, Blaine, but… no. I don’t. Within the past two days you haven’t really given me a reason to trust you. And, I’m sorry, but any respect I thought I had for you—after this morning—”_

_“Oh, I fucking see what this is about now.” Blaine scoffed, nodding his head sharply and taking another step back away from Kurt. “You just want me to take an Unbreakable Vow so that you can fucking prance off with Kiehl—”_

_“Blaine, if you knew me at all you would know that I would never do that to you. Is it wrong for me to want to know for sure that you aren’t going to try to control me, to know for a fact that you don’t have that type of power over me?”_

_“You do know for sure. I fucking_ told _you—”_

_“_ Blaine _.”_

_Blaine huffed out a sigh, his nostrils flaring out a bit, but he seemed to calm down just a little. He could, in fact understand where his mate was coming from. If he’d been treated how he had treated Kurt over the past seven years and, more importantly, the last two days, he’d probably be asking for all the same things that Kurt was at this point. Which is why he sighed, again, before slowly trudging back over to the couch and sitting back down next to Kurt, though admittedly a little farther away than he had been initially. “Fine. I—What would you want me to be promising?”_

_Kurt seemed to sag in relief now that Blaine was no longer hovering over him threateningly. “I just want you to promise that you won’t use your allure on me, ever, for any reason. Or to manipulate any of my friends unless it’s like some kind of life or death situation. My family too, for that matter.”_

_Blaine’s gaze lowered as his hand went to the pocket of his slacks and withdrew his wand. “I-I guess that would be okay.”_

_Blaine didn’t really know what he expected, but it wasn’t Kurt suddenly surging forward and grabbing his hand, forcing the veela to look back up and meet his gaze. “Are you sure, Blaine?” He asked, his voice soft. “I know I want this, but you don’t have to if you really—”_

_“No.” Blaine interrupted firmly. If he hadn’t been sure before, he was now. Kurt was giving him an out and he didn’t know why that solidified things for him, but it did. “Let’s—let’s do this, okay?” Blaine felt his eyes start to burn and his throat start to tighten and he had to force his next words past the knot of tears. “I want you to be able to trust me.”_

_Kurt nodded, rewarding Blaine with a soft smile before glancing around the room, suddenly looking lost. “Blaine…”_

_“What’s wrong?”_

_“We can’t do this by ourselves. We need someone else to hold the wand and act as Bonder.”_

_Blaine stood up then, still holding Kurt’s hand, trying to pull him up as well. Kurt resisted. “We could go find someone really quick if you—”_

_“No, we can do that later. If that’s okay with you?” He tugged a little on Blaine’s hand, and his question was answered when he sat back down next to him. “I really just want to finish our conversation before we leave and go do other stuff.”_

_“There’s more?” The prospect was a little daunting for Blaine, considering._

_“Yeah.” Kurt let out a nervous little laugh. “It’s the last—well, I guess it’s not the_ last _thing, but I still consider it pretty important.”_

_“Okay.”_

_“You remember yesterday when you told me what we did concerning… um. The sexual side of our relationship was entirely up to me? I’d like to talk about what I decided now, get it all out in the open.” He gave Blaine another one of those uber expectant looks he was so good at, and Blaine wasn’t altogether sure what he was supposed to say to that. He settled for a small nod, even though all the nodding he’d done in the last hour was making his head start to throb._

_“All right, well. As far as I’m concerned we’re in the dating stage. The night you claimed me—if we ever get to this point—I’d like for us to not think of it as our first time. I would like to be able to think back on my first time with fond memories. Not… the ones I have now.”_

_“That… would be all right with me.” Blaine agreed, his eyes narrowed as he carefully considered his mate’s choice of words. “Kurt, I—That night, did I—”_

_Kurt’s bright, ice blue eyes shot back down to his lap. “If you’re asking me if you took my virginity, the answer is yes.”_

_Blaine felt his breath catch in his throat and his eyes once again started to smart and water because—_ oh my god _. “Kurt, I’m—”_

_Kurt’s eyes moved back up to meet his, a few degrees cooler than they had been before. “And don’t say you’re sorry because I know deep down you’re probably not.”_

_Blaine felt his eyebrows furrow into a scowl. “_ Kurt _.”_

_“Whatever.” Kurt said loudly, sharply, brushing a small piece of fuzz off his light colored pants. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Kurt paused, his face relaxing from the bitchy expression he’d so suddenly adopted. “And anyway,” He went on, “I’m not willing to do anything like that with you, at the moment.”_

_“Nothing at all?” The thought of doing nothing sexual after doing such things for, at least, the past four years was enough to make the veela cringe in distaste._

_“Well,” Kurt seemed to think on it for a second before relenting. “I guess kissing would be okay.” He smiled a little to himself. “Light, baby kisses.”_

_Blaine made a gruff sound of annoyance but knew he’d end up agreeing anyway. So he just shrugged. “Anything else?”_

_“Yeah, just one more thing.” Kurt suddenly pierced him with a level look, his fingers tightening just slightly around the hand in his own. “Now, I don’t want you to get mad or jump to conclusions, but since I know you’re likely going to anyway… it’s about Chandler.”_

_Blaine felt more than heard a loud growl erupt from his chest as he fought to suppress his veela. He was trying not to be that person, trying not to jump to conclusions and launch to his feet and star ranting and shouting. He succeeded, but only just barely._

_The smile Kurt gave him was wide and amused, his gaze light and his voice teasing. “Wow, Blaine. I’m surprised.”_

_“What?” Blaine’s smile was a little lopsided and pained, as his veela instincts were shouting at him within the confines of his mind. “I have_ some _self-control.”_

_“All right,” Kurt laughed softly and squeezed Blaine’s hand. “I can respect that.”_

_“So what about Kiehl, again?”_

_“I kind of would like for you to maybe… leave him alone?” Blaine opened his mouth to speak, but Kurt was quicker. “And I know you said this morning you’d leave him alone as long as he returned the favor in respect to me, but Blaine that just… That doesn’t really sit well with me.”_

_“So what do you want me to do?” Blaine asked, more out of obligation than him genuinely wanting to know._

_“I just want you to leave him alone, even if he does something to bother us. I feel like Chandler shouldn’t be punished for feeling the way he does about me. Neither one of us knew I’d end up being soul mates with you.” Kurt brought a hand up to rub at his tearing eyes. “You punishing him for that just wouldn’t be right, Blaine, and I—”_

_“Fine.” Blaine groaned as soon as the word passed his lips, knowing he’d regret it just as soon as he said it. But he’d do anything for Kurt. Anything to make him “Just stop crying. Merlin.” He grabbed Kurt and brought him in closer, wrapping his arms around him in a hug. Kurt buried his face in the crook of Blaine’s neck, surprising himself at the action, but Blaine had been more understanding than he’d thought he would be and his warmth was more than a little comforting._

_“Sorry. It’s just… I feel kind of bad. I was really mean to him…”_

_Blaine said, “He’ll get over it.” At the exact same time Kurt let out a muffled, “I think I need to apologize.”_

_Blaine reared back in shock, his eyes almost comically wide. “Kurt, I’ll leave Kiehl alone, but I’d really prefer it if you didn’t go anywhere near him.”_

_“I have to, Blaine.” Kurt pulled back just enough to look at Blaine’s face, his bright blue eyes teary and breaking Blaine’s heart. “I owe him an apology and a decent explanation and I’m not going to let you force me to deny him that.”_

_“Ugh.” Blaine groaned again, pulling away from Kurt completely to drop his face in his hands. “Why the hell did my mate have to end up being so fucking_ nice _?”_

* * *

It took Kurt a few minutes, but he did finally manage to blink his way into awareness enough to realize that Blaine was lying half on top of him, his face buried in Kurt’s neck as if he’d been scenting him in his sleep. His arm was wrapped around Kurt’s waist, and Kurt recognized the fact that the hold was meant to comfort and soothe more than it was to keep him there. The thought made him smile softly to himself and press his fingers to Blaine’s cheek reverently.

Kurt hadn’t meant it to, but the touch made Blaine stir, his eyelashes tickling Kurt’s jawline as his eyes fluttered open. It was only a few seconds before he spoke, tilting his head up to get a better look at Kurt before letting out a quiet, “Hmm,” to himself and rolling out of Kurt’s personal space. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, pulling the blanket more firmly around himself and allowing his eyes to slide back shut before he finally said, “Time for you to get up already?”

“Uh, yeah.” Kurt lifted his hand and made an attempt to right his hair, which he knew had to be sticking up at odd ends and matted in places it shouldn’t be by now. He reached under his— _Blaine’s_ —pillow to grab his wand.

“You know you wouldn’t have to wake up so early if you’d just move in.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, but it was more teasing than anything else. “I know, Blaine. You’ve said.”

“I could even request our own set of rooms. Figgins is actually required to give us that, you know. Since we’re mates and everything.”

Okay. Now _that_ Kurt hadn’t heard before. “Really?”

“Yep. He’d probably never say anything about it to us, though. He’s kind of… I don’t know? Not as by-the-book as he should be, in some cases.”

“Well, in that case.” Kurt said as he slipped out from under the covers, “I’ll think about it.”

* * *

Kurt never really got a chance to apologize to Chandler, well, not really. That night Kurt and Blaine had finally talked through their problems had been a little hectic and stressful what with them trying to find someone to act as Bonder so that they could take their Vow. It had ended up being Coach Sylvester, of all people, and Kurt still wasn’t really sure how that had happened.

The problem was, Chandler was avoiding him. And there wasn’t really anything Kurt could do about that—he wasn’t going to force the other boy to talk to him—so he’d sent an apology along with Grayson (who had taken it upon himself to lecture Kurt for ten minutes before finally stopping to take a breather and see what the hell it was Kurt wanted) and hoped it’d gotten back to him.

It wasn’t the best way to go about things, but it was all Kurt had, for now.

* * *

Kurt sat with his own friends at breakfast for the first time in a long while, and wasn’t at all surprised to see Blaine make a face at him when he stepped into the great hall and realized where he was seated before making his way over.

“Oh my goodness, _Kurt_.” Rachel flailed excitedly at the sight, tugging on Kurt’s sleeve and pointing blatantly (and uselessly) at the boy headed in their direction.

Kurt slapped her hand away from his clothing, rolling his eyes for the second time this morning as he turned his attention back to his plate. “Rachel, calm down. I _see_ him.”

“Morning.” Blaine said with a warm smile and his usual charm, addressing the occupants of the table as a whole before zeroing in on Kurt and allowing his smile to die down to something more personal, genuine. “Hey.” He ran a hand through his loose curls (he’d been leaving his hair that way ever since Kurt had expressed his fondness of the style), seeming to shrink in on himself a little as he glanced about the table and let out a nervous, wavering, “D-Do you mind if I…” He trailed off, leaving the rest of his sentence hanging in the air.

Kurt made a split second decision, scooting to the right, practically plastering himself to Rachel’s side to make space for Blaine between him and Mercedes, the better choice of the two. He gestured to the spot, a little hesitant to touch the 100 year old seat with his bare hand, motioning for Blaine to sit. “Of course I don’t, come sit down.”

Blaine’s smile brightened, his whole face lighting up in a way vaguely kin to a puppy. The more time Kurt spent with Blaine, the more he came to realize that he just wasn’t that bad. Over the years of his schooling at Hogwarts, he’d built up an image of what Blaine Anderson was probably like in his free time, with his friends and family. He’d painted him in the light of a condescending jerk—as he had always been around Kurt, _to_ Kurt.

But Kurt wasn’t so sure about that now, wasn’t sure that _that_ Blaine was this one. Did he normally act this way or was he just being kind and gentle and so (really, surprisingly so) understanding with Kurt because they were mates? Or was he just being that way to try and get something out of him? Initially, he’d had the nagging thought of “What if he just made all of this up?” which would make Kurt stupid and gullible for falling for Blaine’s nonsense—but no. That wasn’t it. He knew it wasn’t. Kurt could feel the bond they shared, could feel Blaine, in a way. He had even felt it that day he’d ran out the dungeons screaming rape. That magical bond had been there ever since the night Blaine claimed him.

Kurt wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to think. Wasn’t even sure if he should even be questioning it.

“Well, Anderson.” Santana plopped down unceremoniously across from the couple at the table, her glossed lips curving up into a salacious smirk as she pinned Blaine with a stare that made Kurt uncomfortable. “Never thought I’d see the day. Knew you’d come crawling back, though.” She wrapped a lanky arm around Britney’s shoulders as she sat down next to her. “So what can I do you for? I’m with Brit, now, but I’m sure we could work something—”

“Santana.”  Kurt cringed almost violently, nearly flinging himself into Blaine at the force of it to get away from Rachel’s shrill voice. “I’m sure you’ve been notified by now that Kurt and Anderson—”

“Blaine.” The veela interrupted. “Please call me Blaine.”

Rachel flashed him a brief smile before, “Kurt and Blaine are dating now and it is very inappropriate to talk to him like that.” She took a deep breath. “However, I understand how easy it is—as Blaine’s exes—”

“Oh god.” Kurt mumbled under his breath, his lips twisting into a deep frown. “Rachel, not again.”

“I know it’s hard for you to think about, Kurt, but me and Blaine do have a very extensive past and if you two are going to have a successful relationship, you’re going to have to accept the fact that your best friend and your boyfriend have… done _things_ together.”

Kurt remained silent, but he knew he must’ve been blushing as his face was almost uncomfortably warm. He stayed that way until a familiar hand landed on and squeezed his knee, and Blaine leaned in and whispered, “I’m starting to see why we’ve been sitting with my friends now. I kind of forgot how crazy she is.” Kurt snuffled out a quiet laugh under his breath. Blaine’s hand slid up and he laced his fingers with Kurt’s on his lap, a soft smile playing on his lips as he said, “I guess we should talk about that stuff, though—my past girlfriends and your past… Kiehl, so you’ll know when people are bullshitting you. Like Rachel. We didn’t do anything together—barely even kissed. She was just too…”

Kurt nodded. Rachel was just… Rachel. There were really no words to describe the brazen brunette. “Well, that makes me feel a little bit better, but we shouldn’t talk about this here. Later, okay?”

Blaine nodded and pressed a gentle kiss to Kurt’s temple before pulling back and withdrawing his hand from his mate’s. “Kurt, baby, you should eat something. Potions today is going to be pretty tough and I want you to have all your energy.”

The sentence sounded a little strange, coming out of Blaine’s mouth, and even Puck snorted under his breath and guffawed, “What the hell is he gonna do, Anderson, suck you off under the table?”

Kurt blushed again and threw his balled up napkin at Puck and was about to turn to Blaine (who was tapping incessantly on his thigh trying to get his attention) when he locked eyes with Chandler. He didn’t know what it was in Chandler’s gaze that startled him so much he was unable to look away—the hurt. The anger. The jealousy. The _disgust_.

“Kurt?” Blaine said, his voice soft and a little worried. “Baby, don’t pay attention to Puckerman, he’s just being—” But then he stopped, drew in a deep breath (scenting the air, Kurt could tell) and slowly turned in Chandler’s direction. He was seated down at the end of the table with Grayson, not too far away from where they were sitting. Kurt felt Blaine start up a low growl at the sight. “Is he bothering you, Kurt?”

“N-no—”

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

“I’m not. He’s… he’s just looking.” Well, he had been.

Blaine tensed at Kurt’s side, a firm, possessive arm looping around Kurt’s waist and pulling him further into the veela’s side as Chandler stood, walking forward a handful of steps until he was standing in front of Kurt and Blaine, just behind Britney and Santana.

He didn’t even look at Kurt, then. His gaze was focused solely on Blaine. He had a fairly sarcastic smirk on his face, an expression Kurt had never seen on the boy before. He gave a jerky shrug, feigning nonchalance. “So… first you take my boyfriend, and then you take my friends?”

Blaine stared, his hazel eyes starting to bleed to black as his breathing noticeably picked up. He started to slowly slip his arm from around Kurt’s waist, but Kurt grabbed onto it, his hold almost biting in intensity and his eyes frantic. “Blaine, you promised.” He hissed, his voice barely audible to even his own ears but he knew the veela could still hear him. He also knew he probably wasn’t even listening—Chandler was still talking.

“It took me a while, but. I see what this is now.” He gave a purposeful, dramatic pause. “Obviously you want to _be_ me.” He shook his head as his lips twisted up into a sardonic smile. He turned his gaze to Kurt, then, but his words were still directed at Blaine. “I bet Kurt can barely even stand the fact that you’ll never be able to fuck him the way I did—”

Kurt felt his jaw hit the floor at the exact moment Blaine jumped up from the table, jostling it and startling screams from people as cups and plates clattered loudly across the surface.

The dining hall went completely silent, almost eerily so, and every gaze in the room was trained in their direction. Blaine stepped forward, pressing his front flush up against Kurt’s back and settling his warm hands upon his shoulders and giving a gentle squeeze. The touch made Kurt relax, made him sigh in relief at the inherent knowledge that Blaine wasn’t going to attack Chandler.

It was a tense, long few seconds before Blaine spoke. “You do realize that I’m not human, right?” His voice was soft, but still somehow firm with an icy edge to it. “I could fucking kill you, right now, _this_ moment.” He took in a deep breath, and Kurt felt him shrug. “And I wouldn’t think twice about it.”

Chandler’s eyes narrowed into a glare behind his oversized glasses. “You think that’s supposed to make me scared of you?”

“It’s supposed to make you _back off_!” Blaine’s voice trailed off into a shout and he continued in that tone as he said, “Can’t you see that Kurt doesn’t want you? He was never supposed to want you. He never _did_. Me and Kurt were brought together by Fate. We’re soul mates, Kiehl, and you can’t fucking compete with that.”

Kurt watched, his throat tight and his heart squeezing in his chest as Chandler’s eyes slowly started to fill with tears. His glittering gaze flicked down to meet Kurt’s for a long moment before he turned, his movements stilted, and walked out of the great hall.

Kurt was on his feet that next second and made a move to stride out after him, but was stopped by Blaine’s hand clamping down hard around his wrist. He stared at Kurt, his eyes only a few shades lighter than when he’d been talking to Chandler. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Kurt rolled his eyes at Blaine’s possessive display, much more than used to it by now. “Blaine, let me go.” Kurt said, his voice quiet, for Blaine’s ears only. “I’m just going to go talk to him.”

“I don’t fucking trust him.” The words came out as a growl more than anything else.

Kurt nodded slightly. “I know you don’t, Blaine, but I’ll only be a second.”

The veela let out a soft sound of annoyance, his hand tightening around Kurt’s wrist for a moment before he finally let go. “If he puts his hands on you…” The threat was left unsaid, but Kurt understood it all the same and he nodded again before turning away from Blaine to follow Chandler out of the great hall.

It took Kurt a short while to find the other boy, as he wasn’t right outside the great hall as he’d initially thought he’d be, but eventually he did find him a number of hallways away. He was sitting on the floor, his knees curled up to his chest, staring blankly ahead at the opposite wall.

“Ch—Chandler?” Kurt called out, his voice almost painfully loud in the quiet.

Chandler’s head snapped up at the sound of his voice and he scrambled to his feet quickly when he caught sight of who we was. He pushed his glasses off his face, running the sleeve of his robes over his eyes. Kurt’s mouth twisted up in distaste and he fought back the urge to mention how that would ruin the fabric (because he knew how expensive that fabric was to replace—he’d been the one to help him pick it out), but now wasn’t the time.

“What?” Kurt wasn’t able to read a bit of emotion in that single word, and for some reason, that made him sad.

He sighed, long and soft. “I’m really sorry.”

Chandler didn’t reply for a minute, apparently content to stare blankly at him, tears still pooling in his eyes before he let out a stunted breath and, “Don’t be.” He was quiet, then, “Anderson’s right. Can’t fucking compete with _Fate_.” The boy seemed to scoff a little to himself when after a few seconds, Kurt still hadn’t replied with anything.

But really, Kurt didn’t know what he was supposed to—what he _could_ say to that. Because Blaine really had been right. How does someone compete with Fate?

“I’m—”

“Don’t say you’re sorry, Kurt. It’s not your fault, just…” He went quiet, then continued, his voice wavering a little more than it had been for the duration of their chat. “Were you ever even happy with me?”

Kurt hesitated, and he didn’t mean for it to, but his silence stretched for a second longer than it should’ve. And before he could make a move to try and fix it, Chandler nodded his head sharply, jerkily, before taking a step back away from him.

“Right.” He muttered, his voice thick. He took another step back, then turned around and started to walk away completely, throwing over his shoulder, “Have a nice life, Kurt.”

Kurt sighed a little, his eyebrows cinched together in a scowl, annoyed at himself as he watched Chandler’s back as the boy moved away from him down the hall, then turned the corner, out of sight. 


	7. Chapter 7

**7**.

Kurt gave a loud, satisfied groan as he dropped his last suitcase on the floor in the middle of his and Blaine’s new rooms and shuffled forward a few steps until he could safely flop down face first on the couch. He was more than content to lie there for the next few years or so, but, apparently, Blaine had other plans.

“So, do you like it?”

Kurt turned his head to face Blaine, who was a few feet away from him in an armchair, his face scrubbing uncomfortably against the leather material of the couch. “Do I like what?”

“The rooms?” He said, his voice wavering a little nervously. “I know they’re not the biggest, or even the nicest, but…” Blaine trailed off, his voice dying on a soft, hopeful lilt.

Kurt thought that maybe he did like it in their new rooms. They were decorated in beige with pale, egg-white undertones. The living area left nothing to be desired, with two firm leather couches, an armchair and a cherry wood coffee table set between them. There was even a kitchen, which Kurt knew he would like. He often missed cooking for himself during the school year—Hogwarts didn’t always have the best food choices—and he hoped he’d be able to find time to do that with all his schoolwork and everything else that was going on.

He’d found that the bedroom was his favorite new place, or more importantly, the closet. He’d become so accustomed to having to keep his clothes all folded up in his many suitcases that he’d almost forgotten what it was like to have a decent amount of closet space at his disposal.

Kurt gave a gentle nod as he turned over on his back, his gaze moving from Blaine’s to stare up at the ceiling. “I think I do. I get to pick out our house, though.” Kurt probably would’ve been more surprised than he was at how freely those words left his mouth if he and Blaine hadn’t been talking about things like that, their future together, over the past few days (it had taken a while for Blaine to convince Kurt to move in with him—and it hadn’t really taken much of a push what with Chandler moping around the Gryffindor dorms these days).

Blaine let out a happy, “Hmm,” at his response, rewarding him with a warm smile before standing and walking over to him. Kurt tilted his head up just so to receive the soft, lingering press of lips against lips Blaine offered, his stomach swooping a little at the way Blaine’s elongated canines nicked his bottom lip when he was pulling away, drawing the barest hint of blood.

Kurt jerked away, hissing a little at the sting, sucking his lip into his mouth and lightly running his tongue over the sore spot to clear away the blood. Blaine’s hazel eyes were sharp on him like a hawk and Kurt tensed for a quick second before he slowly slid up into a sitting position, putting as much space between him and Blaine as he could while the veela was practically sitting on the edge of the couch. Kurt had read enough of that book Professor Pillsbury had given him to know that veelas were practically like vampires when it came to their mate’s blood.  

It was only the second time he’d gained proof of that fact—the first being the night Blaine had claimed him and left the mark on his shoulder, the way he’d carefully lapped up every drop of blood that had seeped out of the wound before he moved on to licking other parts of Kurt’s body—and even though the book had described it in almost vivid detail, it was still a little unsettling to see Blaine staring at him that way.

“Kurt—” Blaine was leaning in closer, his eyes still trained on his lips, one hand going to Kurt’s waist and turning his body so that he was fully facing him when—

“We should stock up the kitchen!” Kurt said quickly, shooting up from the couch and striding across the living room, almost tripping over his bags in the process. He stopped just at the doorway of the kitchen before whipping back around to face Blaine, who was still sitting on the couch, a slightly dazed expression on his face as he stared up at his mate. “I don’t really know what you like, but I was thinking that maybe I could cook for us sometime? It’d be kind of a shame for all this kitchen space to go to waste…”

Blaine blinked slowly once, twice, before his sharp, heated expression melted into something more familiar. His lips curled up into an exited smile and Kurt felt himself relax back into the wall as Blaine hopped up from his seat. “That’d be nice. We could probably go to the store this weekend if you wanted…”

* * *

After making a list of things they’d need to buy from the store, the two of them had spent the remainder of the their afternoon putting away all their belongings and catching up on their reading for class and finishing all their homework so that their weekend would be free and clear.

Going to dinner that night was more of a courtesy than anything else—Kurt was too tired to eat, too tired to do anything, really, but Blaine had practically forced him to go down to the great hall with him so he wouldn’t have to stay up in their rooms by himself.

He regretted the decision immediately when he stepped into the great hall and spotted his friends all huddled up together, whispering furiously about something. He said a quick goodbye to Blaine, who was leaving him to join his own friends, and started to make his way to the Gryffindor table. He half-wondered what was going on until he caught wind of the words “quaffle” and “left field” and had to force himself to keep walking toward them and not turn around and head back up to his new rooms.

He didn’t notice the conversation coming to an abrupt halt as he sat down, and as he made a move to fix himself a light plate, he realized each and every one of them, even Chandler, were openly staring at him. His eyebrows lifted, nearly to his hairline, and he gave them a questioning look as he started to pile food on his plate. “Um… Hey?”

“I’m sorry, Kurt.” Rachel said, her lips twisting into a small frown as she continued to stare at him.

“For wh—”

“You can’t sit here right now—sorry! It’s really nothing personal…” She continued in that same, crisp tone.

Kurt felt his face fall, as did his fork into his plate, his normally open expression suddenly becoming closed off and guarded. His eyes narrowed on the brunette as he said, “What the hell are you talking about?”

Rachel opened her mouth to speak but Santana, who Kurt had made the mistake of sitting down next to, turned to him and burst in with, “What she’s trying to say is you can’t sit here right now, lady face. We’re discussing Quidditch plays and we don’t want you blabbing all our winning material to Anderson.”

“I never even pay attention to you guys when you—I don’t even know what half of it _means_ —”

“Just because you don’t understand it doesn’t mean you can’t repeat it.” Santana cut in sharply. “And anyway, it’s a team decision, so just go sit somewhere else.”

Kurt had opened his mouth to refute, had been about to say that they could do that later in the common room—where he _wouldn’t_ be because he didn’t live in the Tower anymore—when the words “team decision” fully registered. He tensed, his eyes landing on each of his friends in turn, half of which wouldn’t even meet his gaze fully.

He nodded a little to himself as he stood, trying to ignore the stinging wetness of his eyes. He’d just turned around, his shoulders hunched almost all the way up to his ears when he heard Rachel pipe up behind him. “We’re really sorry!”

He turned back just enough to meet her gaze, and scan his gaze over his friends again. “Fuck you.” He watched them just long enough to see Rachel rear back in shock before whipping back around and striding across the great hall. He had briefly considered sitting with Finn, but then he’d realized that he was sitting next to Karofsky, and he didn’t want to be anywhere near him. He’d frozen right in the middle of the great hall, wondering what he should do as his eyes welled up a little more and the tears were spilling down his cheeks faster than he was able to brush them away.

He could feel his friend’s eyes on him, and others, and felt his cheeks start to grow hot at the unwanted attention. He’d just turned to leave the great hall completely when he locked eyes with Blaine across the room. He hadn’t even told his body to move, but before he knew it, he was making quick strides in his direction and sliding into his lap with ease he’d never displayed around Chandler. He curled around the boy, his knees up and his feet planted beside them on the bench. He buried his face in Blaine’s shoulder, his hand fisting in the fabric of his shirt for a moment before he remembered the impossibly expensive label he’d seen on it when he’d been organizing Blaine’s side of the closet earlier. The veela’s arm slipped around his waist, pulling him in a little closer.

Blaine’s warmth and presence was as comforting as it usually was these days, and Kurt melted against him when he pressed a ghost of a kiss to his forehead. “Are you okay, baby?” He asked softly.

Kurt nodded slightly, not trusting his voice enough to speak just yet. He was curious as to why Blaine hadn’t asked him _what_ was wrong—but realized a few seconds too late that Blaine had probably heard the whole thing as it transpired. It gave Kurt pause for a moment, but he respected Blaine just a little bit more for letting him handle the situation and not barging in to “save the day” like he’d gotten so accustomed to doing lately.

Blaine’s hand on his waist gave a light squeeze before the boy shifted slightly, continuing the conversation he’d been having with his friends before Kurt had come over.

Kurt kept to himself for a bit after his friends banished him from the table, content to curl up on Blaine’s lap for a while until his stomach gave a low grumble of protest at the notion. It took him a few minutes, but he finally took a deep breath, wiped the remaining wetness from his eyes and slid off the veela’s lap to plop down in the spot his feet had previously been resting.

Kurt grabbed a plate and started to fill it with food, and was just starting to eat when, “You feeling better, now?”

He swallowed the food still in his mouth before lightly clearing his throat and turning to briefly catch Blaine’s gaze, then turning his eyes back to his plate. “I guess.”

The two of them headed back up to their new rooms only a few minutes after Kurt was done eating, bidding Blaine’s friends—who Kurt had found were actually pretty nice and not slimy like their house mascot presumed—goodnight with a wave and a tired smile. Kurt was a little annoyed at the conversation he had to have with the man—Phillip—in their portrait before he’d let them in, but forgot all about it when he stepped into the door ahead of Blaine and took in the warm scent of the vanilla and jasmine candles he’d sat out before they’d left earlier to get rid of the smell of fresh paint.

“Smells good in here.”

Kurt nodded a little at Blaine’s observation, heading right for their bedroom and shrugging off his robes in the process, the cool air of their rooms wisping across his bare skin as it was revealed and causing the short hairs on his arms to stand on end. Kurt went into the closet to hang it up, shrugging out of his stiff collared shirt and tie as well, leaving him in only a thin tank, before stepping back out into the bedroom.

Blaine was sitting on the edge of their shared bed, his face screwed up in an expression Kurt couldn’t quite put his finger on. It did, however, make his stomach twist uncomfortably—not because it scared him, but because it made him worried. The veela didn’t even seem to notice Kurt had stepped back into the room until Kurt noisily pulled open the top drawer of the dresser.

“Kurt?”

Kurt turned to look at Blaine, his boyfriend, a towel and a fresh set of clothes hugged tight against his chest. He took notice of the fact that Blaine’s expression wasn’t nearly as severe as it had been before, which helped him to relax, if only slightly, because the look was still _there_ and that was what bothered him.

“Could we… maybe… talk?” Blaine let out, his voice more tentative than anything else. “I just have something I want to say and I want to say it before I—before I lose my nerve.”

Kurt took a shuffling step forward toward Blaine, glancing across to the open doorway as he said, “Would it be all right if I showered first?”

Blaine blinked, then, “I—Yeah! Of course. Just, um, could your moisturizing routine wait until after? I know it can get a little… lengthy.”

Kurt snorted a little in amusement at that, nodding his assent before striding out of the room to the bathroom down the hall. It didn’t take him very long to wash up, and even though he’d told Blaine he’d wait to do his routine, he still took a few minutes to wash his face after he got out of the shower. He stared at his reflection in the mirror afterwards for a moment, running his fingers through his floppy, damp hair—he wasn’t going to even bother drying it, tonight—recognizing the fact that his skin would probably start drying out within ten minutes or so. He glanced down at his moisturizers spread out across the counter, tempted to just… a _little_.

But no.

He took a step back away from the counter, ripping his eyes away from the potions before grabbing his soiled clothes and quickly walking out of the bathroom. Hopefully whatever it was Blaine had to say didn’t take too long and he could moisturize his face before it started to get _too_ bad.

Just as Kurt was walking down the hall he spotted Blaine heading toward him, his eyebrow slightly ticked down in an annoyed expression. “Blaine?” Kurt called out carefully. “Everything all right?”

There was no definite confirm or deny to Kurt’s question, only a sharp, “Your _brother_.”

“Finn?” Kurt didn’t even blink when Blaine gently pulled the dirty clothes from his hands, a hand going to the small of his back, urging him forward more quickly.

“He’s in the living room—says he want to talk to you about something.”

“O…kay?” Kurt wondered what Finn could want to talk to him about, wondered how he even knew where Kurt’s new rooms were (because he hadn’t yet had the chance to tell him) and he also wondered what about his visit had made Blaine so upset. “Blaine, are you seriously okay?”

The veelas expression softened a little at the question as the two of the stopped at their bedroom door, just before the turn off into the living room. “I’m fine, he just… said some things.”

“Oh.” Kurt let out a soft, tinkering laugh, leaning in and pressing a light kiss to Blaine’s cheek. “Whatever he said, I wouldn’t take it personally. He doesn’t know what he’s saying half the time—I’m sure he meant well.”

Blaine shrugged, but his lips did turn up into a gentle smile at Kurt’s words. “Well, I’ll be here when you’re done with… whatever that is.”

Kurt nodded, giving Blaine a quick flash of a smile as he turned on his heel and headed into the living room to find Finn sitting tensely on the couch. He hopped up like a spring at the sight of Kurt walking into the room before running over to fold him up in a tight hug. Kurt let out a slight, “Oof” at the sudden contact but found himself hugging his brother back a second later.

“Finn?” Kurt questioned softly when the hug went on a few seconds longer than what could be considered normal. He hadn’t been worried too much about Finn’s visit before, but now… “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, uh. Not really…” Finn stepped back away from him and took an overtly awkward look around the apartment. “Do you mind if I…” He motioned toward the couch.

Kurt shook his head, watching as Finn sat and after a moment, took the spot beside him.

The pair was silent for a few long minutes before Finn burst out with, “At first I thought it was weird that you and Anderson got to move into your own little,” He waved his hand around, gesturing the area they were currently in, “This, but then Rachel had to explain to me that you and Anderson aren’t just like— normal boyfriends, or whatever… It’s kind of—”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “If you say weird, Finn Hudson, I _swear_ —”

Finn shook his head a little, turning to meet Kurt’s gaze with a surprising amount of seriousness. “Sudden. And… off, I guess?” He licked his lips, his eyes flicking up toward the ceiling as he fought to find the right words, for once. “It’s just—you were just with Chandler, not even two weeks ago, Kurt, and I know you weren’t happy with him because, Kurt, I _know_ you. I know when you’re happy and—that wasn’t it.”

Kurt felt his eyes start to water for the second time today because, “ _Finn_.”

The boy only shook his head as he continued, apparently on a roll, “You weren’t happy with him, but… Anderson? I don’t know. It seems like you’re happy- _er_. Which is good—I’m glad that you’ve found someone you’re happy with.” Finn quieted then.

Kurt took his pause as an opening to pipe up with, “Thank you, Finn. It… means a lot.” He took a deep breath, dabbing at the corners of his eyes with the cuffed sleeve of his pajama top. He was just getting ready to speak again when Finn interrupted him, his voice suddenly a few decibels lower than it had been before, and if possible, even more serious with a slight edge to it.

“I’m not stupid… or, _as_ stupid as most people think I am.” Kurt’s eyebrows furrowed as he opened his mouth to refute, but Finn raised a hand to wave away his words. “I know _you_ don’t think that, Kurt, but most people do.” He paused, briefly. “I notice things.” He turned back toward Kurt, from where he’d been staring blankly ahead at the burning fire in the fireplace. “I know it must’ve been Anderson that did something to you—that day when you came and sat with me in my dorms and _cried_.” Finn turned away from him then, but Kurt still caught sight of the tears starting to well up in his eyes before he did. “I know it was him. I know he must’ve done something pretty bad to make you—Kurt you hardly ever cry.”

“That’s not so true, these days.” Kurt muttered under his breath.

“But anyway… if he ever—you can come to me, you know. Just like last time.”

Kurt nodded jerkily, his throat a little tight at the sincerity in Finn’s tone. “I—” He sniffled a little and cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m you big brother—it’s like in my job description, or something.”

Kurt let out a bark of a laugh, biting his lip to hold in the rest of his childish giggles. “I know, but still…”

Finn just shrugged again, his lips curling into a soft smile.

The two of them were quiet for a while, the silence between them comfortable as it always was.

Finn was the one to break it. “I heard about what the guys did to you today.”

Kurt nodded a little, his eyes falling to his hands twisting in the fabric of his shirt. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Finn nodded too, then looked away. “That wasn’t cool.”

Kurt lifted his shoulder. “Yeah, well. I guess I kind of get it, but—it’s not like Blaine couldn’t listen in if he really wanted to, and they probably could’ve gone somewhere else if they really wanted to talk about that kind of stuff.” He sighed shortly as he admitted, “I guess it just kind of hurt my feelings a bit—even though I probably should’ve seen it coming. Rachel did the same thing to you when you guys started dating.”

Finn hummed a little to himself at that. “It’s different though, I’m on another team—you don’t even play.”

It was Kurt’s turn to shrug now. “It’s whatever.”

Finn let out another soft hum as he stretched and stood. “It’s also time for bed. Walk me to the door?”

Kurt snorted, the door was literally five feet away from them. “Really, Finn?” But he got up and walked him to the door anyways.

“I still kind of think it’s unfair you guys get to move in here.” Finn grumbled a little to himself. “Can I move in?”

Kurt rolled his eyes, shoving his brother toward out the portrait door. “No, Finn.”

“Please?”

“Good _night_ , Finn.”

The door swung shut behind him.

Kurt stood in the living room for a moment, listening to Finn as he gave a warm, amused, “Goodnight!” to Kurt from the other side of the door, then another to Phillip before walking off down the hall. He smiled a little to himself, moving throughout the room to cut off all the lights, leaving the area lit with a mellow glow from the fireplace before he braced himself—he knew Blaine would likely still want to talk—taking a deep breath before finally heading to the bedroom.

Kurt found Blaine there, just as the veela had said he would be, sitting on the edge of the bed bent almost in half, his elbows on his knees and his hands buried deep and knotted in his unruly curls. It took Kurt a second to realize it, and when he did, he froze right where he was in the doorway.

Blaine was crying.

“B-Blaine?” Kurt took a small step forward, wanting to comfort but not really knowing enough about what was going on to be able to approach the situation properly. “Are you…. Are you okay?”

Blaine didn’t answer him, well, not really. The only response he got was a sharp, forceful shake of his head. It was a long few minutes before Blaine finally sniffed wetly and let out a shaky, broken, “I’m sorry.”

Kurt frowned, taking another step toward the boy. “Blaine, wh—”

But Blaine wasn’t done. “Your brother was wrong.” He let out a heavy sigh, but continued quickly so that Kurt wouldn’t be able to interrupt him. “I know you’re not happy with me. I know you don’t—” His voice cracked then, and his hands slid down from his hair to his face to stem the steady flow of tears pattering on his pants. “You don’t even _like_ me.”

Kurt went to him then, stopping only inches away, his fingertips grazing the veela’s wrist, his shoulder. “Blaine, I like you just fine.”

Blaine jerked away from him, almost violently, his hands falling into his lap and he looked up at him with his eyes filled with so much hurt it startled Kurt back a step or two. He stared at Kurt for a second before blinking and turning his gaze away completely. “I don’t want you to like me _just fine_.” He said, his voice soft, but still somehow sharp. “I want you to—” He cut himself off abruptly, a growl of frustration ripping out of him, his hand fisting in the duvet beneath him. “I fucking love you, okay?”

Kurt shifted a little, uncomfortably, his arms moving up to fold across his chest. He’d heard Blaine say those words before, of course he had, but he hadn’t really given it much thought since that night, but now… “Blaine…”

“I don’t expect you to say it back.” Blaine mumbled, then quieter, “And you probably never will. But that’s my fault. I shouldn’t have—” He huffed out another sigh, scrubbing his hand over his face and through his hair. “I realize I could’ve handled our claim a little—a lot better. I should’ve talked to you about it first or _something_ but I… didn’t. I was selfish and I just—I played by veela rules instead of thinking about—instead of recognizing the fact that you’re human and you wouldn’t understand.” He paused, not long enough for Kurt to get a word in edgewise, but long enough to wet his lips before continuing. “And I don’t think I ever apologized directly, for that, but Kurt.” He turned to look at him then. “I really am sorry.”

It was quiet for a few moments, Blaine waiting for Kurt to respond and Kurt standing there trying to find the right words to say. “I know you are, Blaine.” Kurt moved to sit next to Blaine on their bed, reaching over and grabbing Blaine’s hand and holding onto it even despite it being a little damp and clammy. “I know.” And he did. In the book Professor Pillsbury had given him, he’d read about veelas and their mating rituals. He’d gathered enough meaning from the weather beaten words to know that what Blaine had done was considered the norm—and usually wasn’t frowned upon because most veelas ended up mating with other veelas. Veelas mating with anyone besides their own was… not really uncommon enough to be rare, but it surely didn’t happen a lot. “I’ve been reading, and—”

“Just because you read some stupid book doesn’t mean you know everything, Kurt.” Blaine stared down at their clasped hands for a second before sighing, slipping his hand out of Kurt’s and standing to walk across the room to the dresser. He started stripping out of his day’s attire, and Kurt blushed hotly and turned away to give the boy some semblance of privacy, even if he didn’t want it.

“I’m not even going to try and pretend I know everything.” Kurt said, staring resolutely at the opposite wall. “But I know _enough_. And I just—I just want you to know that, on some level, I understand, and it’s…” He trailed off, his gaze falling to his hands twisting nervously on his lap. “I’m not going to say it’s okay.” He turned to look at Blaine then, just as he was pulling a thin cotton T-shirt over his head. “Because it’s not. You and I both know that, and I… I haven’t quite forgiven you for what you did but I just wanted you to know that I understand.”

Blaine stared at Kurt, his eyes still shining a little, half way hunched over to keep his balance as he pulled his feet out of his pants leg. He was quiet as he put on his pajama pants, and as he took his clothes into the closet to put them into their respective bins. He returned to Kurt minutes later, dry eyed, his lips a little red and swollen as if he’d been biting at them.

He remained standing in front of his mate instead of sitting, like Kurt had initially expected, and heaved out a weighted sigh as he stared off just over Kurt’s right shoulder and said, “Either way,” He wet his lips again, blinking quickly to ward off unwanted tears. “I just want you to be happy. Even if… Even if it’s not with me.”

Okay. Kurt was officially lost. “What’re you talking about “not with you”?” He asked, the words coming out a little harsher than he intended. He watched Blaine flinch backwards a little at the shrewdness of his tone, but barreled on. “We’re mates— _soul_ mates. And I kind of get burned when I touch other guys, if you’ve forgotten.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” Blaine murmured, his voice a little dry. He looked down at his bare feet, kicking a little at the fluffy carpeting. “I lied to you, more by omission than anything, but it’s really just as bad, you know?”

Kurt stilled a little at that, but his heart didn’t really get the message, kick-starting and going haywire playing the drums against his ribcage. He couldn’t help it, though—with Blaine, he usually expected the worst. “About what?”

Blaine stopped toeing at the carpet to meet Kurt’s gaze fully. “I’m really trying to play my cards right at this ‘open and honest relationship’ shit, okay? I still—I still want you to be able to trust me fully but it’s kind of hard for me to tell you this stuff because it,” He gave a sharp, frustrated sigh and shuffled a step closer to his boyfriend as he hung his head and rubbed his eyes. “I’m going to sound so much like the asshole I am right now, but,” He scrubbed a hand over his face, through his hair, holding a breath and letting it out slow as he said, “Telling you this stuff gives you… It gives you more control.” He paused, his breath coming out a little ragged as he fought out his next words, “And I don’t like that because you’re—you’re supposed to be mine, Kurt. They fucking handpicked you for _me_ and the thought of some asshole being able to come through and make you happier than I’ll ever be able to makes me _sick_ —”

“Blaine?” Kurt cut in, because it really didn’t seem like the veela was going to stop any time soon. “Honey, I’m lost, can you just—”

Blaine nodded, moving closer, within reaching distance, but neither boy reached out to touch the other. “Remember a while back ago, when I told you our mate bond kind of… burned us to prevent infidelity?”

“Yeah, but what does that—”

Blaine raised his hand, his eyes squeezed shut tight. “Please just let me finish, Kurt. Before I lose my nerve.” Kurt nodded an affirmative, suddenly feeling a little meek, and even though Blaine’s eyes were closed he seemed to sense it or something because he continued on, “That doesn’t last forever. On average, maybe a year or so, the same amount of time it takes for us to get over getting sick after being away from each other for long periods of time, but after that…”

The silence that fell over them was thick, just marring the edge of uncomfortable.

Blaine was the one to break it, minutes later, shifting slightly on his feet, his voice quiet. “Say something, Kurt, please.”

Kurt looked up at him, met his gaze, held it. “I don’t—” He shook his head lightly. “I don’t understand. We’re soul mates, doesn’t that mean something?”

“It does.” Blaine confirmed with a slightly grim smile. “But soul mates don’t always end up together. I mean, really, I would’ve needed to claim you anyway to keep the both of us from going mad. But as I said, destined mate pairs don’t always live happily ever after.” He seemed to curl in on himself then, his eyes darkening a little with annoyance. “Sometimes life gets in the way. Sometimes people just fuck up like I did.”

“Blaine…” Kurt didn’t know what to say. This really was a lot to take in at once.

“I’m only going to say this once, Kurt.” Blaine said after another long moment of quiet. He sniffled, then rubbed his arm across his face, and Kurt realized that his eyes were once again welling up with tears. “So you listen to me, okay?” Kurt nodded quickly, trying to stem his own tears. “I love you, Kurt—and I’d do anything for you. Even if that means sacrificing myself and my sanity for you to be able to be happy. I want you to be able to be happy, Kurt. _Truly_ happy. Even if it’s not with me.” He let out a wavering breath, his eyes flicking up to the ceiling as tears pooled down his tanned cheeks. “So if you… if you feel like you’re not in this thing right now, just tell me okay? Or even if it’s not right now, if you ever feel like it’s not all there, just let me know, I’d—” His hazel eyes moved back down to meet Kurt’s, a little red and irritated from all the crying, but the look behind them was so sincere it almost hurt Kurt to stare back at him. “I’ll let you go, without question. I mean I’d—I’d probably cry a lot.” He motioned jerkily at his face, his lips curling into a mirthless smile. “But I’d stand by you, if you’d have me. I’d be a friend to you and I’d protect you and I’d throw rice at your fucking _wedding_ —”

Blaine’s voice cracked then, and his body gave an allover shudder, his chest jerking violently as he pressed his lips together and fought to hold in his sobs.

It only took Kurt a second—a second of watching this boy, this beautiful boy, fall apart in front of him—to decided what he wanted. It really wasn’t a hard decision, in the end, even despite the fact that he hadn’t forgiven Blaine for all that he’d done yet.

Kurt held out his hand. “Come here, Blaine.”

Blaine looked a little startled at that, but he hesitantly slipped his hand in Kurt’s, allowing the taller, more slender boy to pull him forward until he was standing between his parted legs.

“Blaine,” Kurt started slowly, staring up into the other boys eyes instead of down at him, for once. “I know this has been really hard for you—for the both of us, and,” His fingers carded through the hair at the nape of Blaine’s neck, watching the boys lip quiver a bit as a few tears leaked out of his eyes. “Considering all the things you’ve just told me, I’m not even really sure if us being together is going to work out.”

Blaine’s breath hitched a little, his hand coming up and curling in the fabric of Kurt’s night shirt as he closed his eyes tight. “I-It’s okay. I get it. Y-You don’t have to s-say anymore—”

“Shh,” Kurt hushed him and pulled the boy’s hand away from his clothes, because, really, they’d talked about that. “Blaine, I don’t think you _do_ get it. You’re not really listening to me, are you?”

“I-I’m trying. It’s hard. You’ve gotta talk faster.”

Kurt gave a delicate snort of amusement. “Blaine, all I’m trying to say is—if you’re willing, then I’m all right with giving this—our relationship, a try.”

Blaine tensed in his arms, but after a moment, he slowly, surely, began to relax, swooping down to close the distance between them and pressing his lips hard against his mate’s. It was nothing more than a simple press of lips against lips, just as all their kisses following their claiming night had been, but the touch made Kurt moan loudly into the other boy’s mouth, his lips parting, inviting him in. Blaine let out a sharp whimper, his hands clenching hard on Kurt’s shoulders as his tongue dipped inside Kurt’s mouth for the first time in weeks, greedily prodding and tasting, sucking lightly at Kurt’s tongue as it tangled with his.

He pulled away just as his lungs were about to burst, pressing his cheek to Kurt’s, breathing out a long sigh of, “Fuuuck.” In his ear as his body caved forward, almost knocking Kurt back on the bed. He pulled his weight off of him quickly, his lips grazing the soft skin of Kurt’s cheek as he pulled away. “Shit. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Kurt sounded a little breathless, himself, his hands slipping down into his lap from the hold they’d taken on Blaine’s waist. He looked up at him, his eyes glinting a little deviously as he said, “We’re dating. You can do that kind of thing now.”

Blaine’s mouth parted a little in shock before falling open around a groan, and Kurt giggled a little to himself as Blaine tackled him back onto the mattress to steal another kiss.

* * *

Their night was spent cuddled together in each other’s arms, exchanging slow, searching kisses and chatting softly into the early hours about everything and nothing all at once before they finally fell asleep around five in the morning, still neck deep in conversation.

It was nice, Kurt thought when he woke up the next morning. He didn’t really mean to compare the two, but seeing as it was his only experience with these types of things, he couldn’t help but notice that things had never been so… comfortable? He wasn’t really sure if that was the right word, but things had never really been this easy with Chandler. The two of them together had been okay, but it’d never been like this. Kurt thought that maybe, even if they had gone at it for longer, they still wouldn’t have been able to reach this level.

Blaine was just so much _more_.

Kurt didn’t know if it had anything to do with the soul mate bond they shared, or if it was just a Blaine thing, but he liked it.

The veela, in the end, had been right, telling Kurt all the things that he had, all the things that it had nearly killed him to say, had given Kurt more control, more power in their relationship, and shifted the reigns a little. Kurt had been comfortable around Blaine since they’d taken their Vow, but knowing all the things he did now made him realize that, while he’d been pretty at ease with Blaine, there had still been that shadow of a doubt at the back of his mind that he’d never quite been able to get rid of.

That ever present weight on his chest, which made him feel as if he was suffocating most of the time, had lifted and now he felt more at home… Safe. Content.

Less… Trapped.


	8. Chapter 8

**8**.

 _1 month later_.

Kurt had just buttoned the top button on his shirt and reached for one of his newer robes when Blaine burst into the room with a flurry of unnecessary sound, startling Kurt from his task of getting ready. He poked his head out of the closet door curiously, “Blaine?”

The boy in question was sitting nervously on the very end of their bed, dress nicely—smart dress robes, tan slacks, and an airy, light green button up— _too_ nicely, in fact, for a short trip to the grocery store. Kurt felt himself start to tense up at the sight of the veela twisting his hands uselessly in his lap—a reaction Kurt had consciously tried to rid himself of over the past few weeks but hadn’t quite succeeded. Nervous Blaine just did things to him—and took a small step out into the bedroom. “You okay?”

Blaine looked up at him, their gazes catching briefly before his eyes slid down to the robes that Kurt had draped over his arm before he’d walked out of the closet. The veela gave a slight nod before giving a sigh, his cheeks puffing out with it a little. “I-I’m not trying to judge your outfit or anything—you look great, I mean—but, um… maybe you could pick a set of robes that are a little bit more formal?” He met Kurt’s gaze fully, then, his expression hopeful.

Kurt had learned a few things over the last month of being in an actual relationship with Blaine—one of which being: Blaine Anderson never just came out and said whatever it was he wanted. Most of the time he left it up to Kurt to guess whatever it was he was trying to say. They had talked about it, and were well on their way to working through that particular flaw in their relationship, but they hadn’t quite gotten there yet.

Which is why Kurt was currently confused. He’d obviously missed something here. “More… formal?” He asked, with no small amount of incredulousness dripping from his tone, “To go to the grocery store?”

Blaine looked a little confused himself for a moment before his face brightened and he let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh, his lips curling up into a muted smile. “Oh! Sorry. I…” He cleared his throat and stood from the bed, crossing the room and carefully setting Kurt’s robes aside before grabbing his hands and holding them in his own. “I was wondering,” He held Kurt’s gaze, his head tilting to the right just so as he asked, “Would you like to go out with me? As in, a date?”

Kurt’s breath caught a little at those words—he hadn’t been expecting Blaine to _take him out_. And yeah, maybe it’d been a little stupid of him to just assume things, but when Blaine had burst into their room earlier after spending half the day hanging about with his Slytherin friends and demanded he get dressed because they were “going out”, he hadn’t even batted an eye. He’d just figured Blaine meant they were going to the store, and it really was a valid notion, because they’d just been talking about how they needed to restock the kitchen that morning. But really, he hadn’t been expecting _this_. “Blaine—”

“I made reservations for us at that new French restaurant down in Diagon Alley,” Blaine cut in. “And I was thinking afterwards we could head to one of those Muggle movie cinemas you’re so fond of.”

Kurt blinked quickly, surprised. He hadn’t thought Blaine had really been listening to him all those times he’d went rambling on about the summers he’d spent with his Muggle grandparents, cooking and gardening and going to see films every weekend and loving every minute of it. His bottom lip caught between his teeth as he let out a shaky breath. “Blaine, you didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to.” Blaine interrupted him again with a fond smile and a shake of his head. “Now, would you like to go out with me, Mr. Hummel?”

Kurt gently squeezed the hands clasped with his own as he felt a giddy smile break out across his face. “I’d love to.”

* * *

Even despite all Blaine insistences that he looked fine in what he was wearing, Kurt had rushed back off into the closet to change, and the had taken an extra ten minutes to touch up his hair.

It was well into the evening by the time they finally took the Floo from their rooms to Diagon Alley. Kurt was excited, bouncing on the balls of his feet, practically glued to his boyfriend’s side. It’d been a long time since he’d last been this excited about something, and even longer than that since he’d been out on a date like this.

Blaine’s hand easily slipped into Kurt’s as they walked down the streets through Diagon Alley toward the French Wizarding restaurant. “Hmm,” Blaine hummed softly, looking up at his boyfriend through his eyelashes. “You seem happy.”

Kurt laughed a little, feeling his cheeks go warm even despite the slight chill of the late October air. “Well,” He gave Blaine a sly look, smiling softly. “ _You_ make me happy.”

“Oh.” Kurt watched as Blaine flushed, pleased at the offhand compliment, and could very nearly visualize the boy’s veela curling up and purring contentedly like a cat. Blaine look up at him then, his eyes serious even despite the smile on his lips and the happy flush to his cheeks. “Do I really?” He asked, tentatively, as though afraid of the answer.

Kurt’s eyes flicked over Blaine’s face, a little surprised that the veela was looking right back at him but he couldn’t _see_ …

Kurt pulled his hand from Blaine’s to rake his fingers over the other boy’s curls, taming a few fly-aways. “Of course you do, silly.” He leaned down to press a kiss just at the corner of Blaine’s mouth, then continued, softer, “You should know that already.”

Blaine’s shoulders seemed to sag a little at those words, his eyes going suspiciously misty for a moment. He let out a great sigh, his lip quivering just a bit before he sunk his teeth into it to stop the movement. “I’m glad.”

Kurt smiled softly, mostly to himself. “Me too.” The words were spoken quietly, nearly inaudible, but he knew Blaine had still heard him. Even if already knowing he was a veela hadn’t been enough indication, the firm squeeze he received when Blaine slipped his hand back into his would’ve told him all he needed to know.

The remainder of their walk to the restaurant was spent in a heavy, but comfortable silence. They made it there with only minutes to spare before their reservations were taken away and given to someone else. Blaine slipped away from Kurt so that he could tug the door open, and Kurt smiled gratefully. “Thank you.” He took a step just inside the restaurant, feeling the slight stiffness from the cold start to ease from his body at the pleasant warmth that greeted him. He silently admired the restaurant’s design, the use of dark cherry woods, rich reds and brilliant gold accents were quite appealing to the eye.

He couldn’t say Blaine really felt the same way as when he stepped inside and caught sight of the décor he gave a quiet scoff and a roll of his eyes, the dramatics complete with a muttered, scathing, “Fucking Gryffindors.”

Kurt laughed loudly, disrupting the quiet of the restaurant but not really having enough presence of mind to care. “That kind of hurts, Blaine.”

“Oh, sorry, baby.” Blaine looked at him, frowning distractedly. “Not you, just… everybody else.”

Kurt couldn’t stop the fit of giggles that put him in, because that hadn’t been much better.

Blaine pulled him forward with a teasing smile, his expression only going half-serious as he looked up at the host behind the waist-high podium and said, “Reservation for Anderson-Hummel.”

The two of them were seated at their table soon enough, right across from each other, and Kurt folded his hands on the table and leaned in, his smirk nothing short of teasing as he said, “Anderson-Hummel, huh?”

Blaine looked at him, lifting an eyebrow with the same teasing expression. He looked down for a moment, toying with a stray string on his sleeve. Kurt caught the movement and tsked softly, batting the veelas hand away before he could unravel it any further. “Yeah… I was thinking that’d probably be my—um. Last name if we ever got… married.”

Kurt sat back in his seat, unsure of what kind of response he could give to that. He looked at Blaine carefully for a second, the other boy staring right back at him, before letting out a soft laugh. “That’s sweet, Blaine.” He said, after a moment, then laughed again, his smile turning teasing once more. “I’m just glad you’re not looking at me as the girl in this relationship—with the last name thing and all. Because then we’d have some problems.”

“Aren’t you, though?”

Kurt scowled sharply, feeling a rush of anger shoot through him so quickly it almost unseated him. He opened his mouth, his arsenal at the ready to cut down any ideas Blaine had about him—but snapped it shut abruptly when he caught sight of the look on Blaine’s face. He folded his arms across his chest defensively, still scowling, but the sharpness of his expression had begged off a bit. He let out a huff of a sigh, releasing the last bits of his anger along with it. “Screw you.”

Blaine snorted, his eyes crinkling up at the corners at the force of his smile, looking like he was about to respond when a sharply dressed waiter walked up to their table. He paused for a moment, his gaze raking over the couple with an annoyingly keen eye, his gaze lingering for half a second too long where it wasn’t welcome before he straightened and said, “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I’m Shawn, and I’ll be your waiter today. Can I start you two off with something to drink?”

By the time the waiter had walked away from their table, Blaine’s good mood had taken a turn. Kurt could practically see the gray raincloud hovering over the veela’s head and it both upset and amused him that Blaine could so easily be affected by such little things. “Blaine—”

“He shouldn’t have been looking at you like that.”

Kurt sighed softly, then patted the spot beside him. “Come here.”

Blaine moved to the other side of the booth quickly, crowding Kurt against the partition-wall separating him from another table of patrons. He slipped an arm around Kurt’s waist, leaning in and rubbing his face on his shoulder, scent-marking him. Kurt shoved him away gently, just enough to be able to look into the other boy’s eyes.

“I’m with _you_ , Blaine. Some dumb waiter giving me suggestive looks isn’t going to change that.”

Blaine bit his lip, his eyes twinkling a little as his face twisted in a noticeably faux hopeful expression as he said, “You think he’s dumb?”

Kurt felt his lips tug up into a hesitant smile, glad he was able to make Blaine feel better. He pressed a light kiss to his jaw as he said, “Yes. And did you see his hair—that blonde was obviously fake. I’d never be able to go out with a guy like that.”

The veela hummed softly, giving Kurt a kiss of his own. “I’d like to think that I’m your first choice, you know.”

“It’s good that you think that.” Kurt said seriously, after a moment, even despite the joking tone Blaine had said the words in. “You are my first choice—otherwise I wouldn’t be here right now.”

Blaine looked at him then, his eyes almost uncharacteristically soft. “I love you so much, Kurt.”

“I know you do, honey.” Kurt gave his knee a light pat and flashed him a quick smile. “I know you do.”

The rest of dinner passed quickly—too quickly, really, for Kurt’s tastes. Dinner had been amazing—the two of them had briefly touched on the topic of their home lives, which was a topic they’d become accustom to skirting around before—and Kurt told Blaine how easily his dad had accepted him being gay. It hadn’t really been too much of a surprise—the wizarding world didn’t really have all the same problems with homosexuality that Muggles did, but with Kurt being exposed to both sides of that reality, he’d been a bit nervous about coming out.

Blaine looked a little thoughtful as the two of them shrugged back into their robes, using them as makeshift jackets to guard them from the cold as they walked out of the restaurant and into the open night air.

“I’m not really sure how my parents are going to take it when they find out that my mate’s another dude.” He licked his lips, his eyes squinting just a little as he looked up at the sky. “I’ve never heard them say anything on the subject.”

Kurt squeezed Blaine’s hand, offering him what little comfort he could. “I… I’m sure it’ll be fine.” But really, Kurt wasn’t sure of that at all. He’d never met Blaine’s parents—never even laid eyes on them.(Though he had heard of them—Who hadn’t?). And while most wizards and witches were accepting, there were still those solid few that just… weren’t.

What if Blaine’s parents were in that group?

The veela gave a noncommittal hum, but the expression on his face suggested that he was thinking the exact same thing Kurt was. The two of them slowly started to walk in the direction from which they’d came, planning to apparate from there to a safe spot so that they could walk from there to the Muggle theater.

“Have you—” Blaine turned to look at him. “Have you told your dad about us, yet?”

Kurt shook his head. “No… I’ve been waiting for the right time.” He admitted softly. “I think he’s going to be pretty angry that I waited so long but,” He shrugged. “I think he’d be mad about it either way.”

Blaine was silent for a moment, then, “Because of me?” He ventured carefully, “Because of what I am?”

Kurt hesitated for a second before biting the bullet and nodding slowly. “I—Yeah, Blaine.” He hadn’t really wanted to say—but he wasn’t going to stand there and lie to Blaine’s face. Because truth was, the veela likely already knew the answer to that question and was probably—intentionally or not, testing him.

Kurt’s dad wasn’t just any old John. Kurt’s dad was the Minister of Magic and had been for nearly a year. It still slipped Kurt’s mind half the time, but in situations like these it was a little hard for him to forget.

Burt Hummel would go down in wizarding history for the strict policies he’d instilled on supernatural creatures mating with wizards and witches, and in that light, Blaine had three strikes against him.

The first rule he’d broken: Supernatural creatures, despite their age of maturity, were not allowed to enter claims or mate-ships with wizards or witches until they turned 18. And even then, before they could actually enter the claim they had to file for a “Claim License” which was something similar to a marriage license, except for the fact that the people giving it to you had to check to make sure that both parties were happy with the arrangement—which was the second law Blaine had broken. And also, there was the small—or not so small—rule that claims had to be 100 percent consensual, which theirs hadn’t been, at first, even if everything was mostly settled and all right now.

Blaine seemed to realize those same things at the exact same time Kurt did—they were kind of in tune with each other like that, now—and stopped mid step. “Fuck.” He muttered, but it really came out sounding more like a sob than an actual word. “Your dad’s gonna fucking _fry_ me.”

Kurt would’ve laughed at Blaine’s dramatics if he hadn’t been worried about the exact same thing himself. “No he won’t—” He tried, but the words sounded a little hollow even to himself. And either way, Blaine wasn’t even listening.

“He’s gonna fucking send me to Azkaban, and then I’ll be locked up forever and I’ll never get to see you again or get to get married to you and have babies with you and he’ll probably come in there one day and fucking light me on fire or something because he—”

“Blaine.” Kurt did let out a small chuckle, then, and pulled Blaine forward so that they could continue their walk. “You’ll be fine. We just—we have to tell him soon. Maybe he won’t be… _as_ mad then.”

Blaine looked at him, his expression wholly doubtful. “He’s gonna fucking hate me.”

“Probably.” Kurt agreed, because there was really no denying that. “But we still need to tell him—your parents too, while we’re at it. Maybe we should just do it at the same time.”

Blaine shook his head, kicking the toe of his shoe lightly at the pavement. “Could we… Could we just introduce me to your dad as your boyfriend and let… all the other stuff come later?”

Kurt considered it for half a second before shaking his head himself. “No, as much as I’d like to I don’t really think that’s a good idea. We should just tell him—get it over with. We don’t want him finding out on his own—it’d be even worse, then.”

Kurt watched as Blaine mouthed the words, “Even worse?” for a second before asking, his voice wavering a little in fear. “How would he find out?”

“I don’t know.” Kurt said, and wrapped his arms around Blaine tightly as they prepared to apparate. “He has his ways.”

“We’ll… tell them soon, then?” Blaine asked softly, nervously.

Kurt nodded in response. “Soon.”


	9. Chapter 9

**9**.

They never really got that chance. “Soon” turned to “Later” quickly, and as time passed, the notion to tell their parents about their relationship fell to the wayside under the stress of their classwork and studying for exams. Before they knew it, a full two weeks had passed, and the thought of telling their parents became nothing more than a distant inclination, ever-present at the back of their minds.

The two of them had no way of knowing, for that reason only, their days together would be numbered.

* * *

“Hey, Blaine, did you get the answer to number 27?”

Blaine looked up, tapping the feathered part of his quill distractedly against his cheek. He glanced over at Kurt’s work, scrunched up his face, then looked back at his own. “What class is that for?”

“Charms.”

“Oh,” Blaine shook his head. “I haven’t started on that one yet. I’m still stuck on Arithmancy.”

“Fuck.”

“Sorry.”

The two of them were in Study Hall, their last class of the day, surrounded by people who were doing much of the same thing they were—finishing up last minute assignments. There was only a week and a half left before classes let out for Thanksgiving break. Most witches and wizards here didn’t celebrate it—though Kurt’s family usually did—but the five day break off from classes was given mostly for the sake of Muggleborns who held reign from the states.

It had taken a while, a few heated arguments and long standing cold shoulders for the two of them to finally decide on a date to tell their parents about their relationship. They had already waited too long—and what with the holidays quickly approaching they’d realized that they’d need to come out with the truth soon as they couldn’t very well spend five days apart from each other without nearly physically combusting.

Blaine was quiet for a moment after that before he sighed deeply and carefully sat his quill down, making sure not to accidently drag the inked tip across his work before shoving the stack of parchments aside. He folded his arms on the table and turned his honey eyes once again to Kurt. “Hey…”

Kurt looked up, caught the expression on Blaine’s face, and pushed his things aside as well. “What? Are you—” He started, worried.

“I’m fine.” Blaine waved away the question, but the way his eyebrows were cinched tightly together kind of contradicted his response. “I just… Are we still telling them this weekend?”

Kurt frowned slightly, biting his lip to hold in his immediate, _“Do you not want to?”_ because it didn’t matter if Blaine _wanted_ to or not, they had to do this. They’d already put it off as long as they could. “Yes.” He said instead. “Why?”

Blaine shrugged lightly. “I don’t know. I’m just a little worried about it, I guess.” He picked his quill back up and started doodling small scribbles in the corner of a blank piece of parchment. “Did you already write your letter to you dad?”

“Yeah—I told him and Carole to meet us at Hogsmeade just like we planned and then we’ll go out to dinner and break the news. Hopefully everything goes well. I haven’t mailed it yet though, I’ll do that tonight.” He looked at Blaine a little more closely before asking, “Did you write yours?”

“Yeah.”

Blaine didn’t look up at him as he said it, and when he didn’t bother to elaborate, Kurt rolled his eyes. He’d thought they were over this by now. Kurt reached over and grabbed Blaine’s hand, stopping him from drawing out another piece of parchment to mess allover—because really, the stuff wasn’t all that cheap. And neither was the ink he was wasting.

“Blaine, tell me what’s really going on with you.”

“A lot of things.”

Kurt clicked this tongue softly against his teeth, looking up quickly at the sound of heavy footfalls and shaking his head, as kindly as he could motioning with his free hand for Nick and Jeff to go and find something else to do. “Blaine.”

“I don’t want to tell, them, okay? I just wish there was some other way we could…”

“I know you do, and I know that sneaky underhanded tactics are kind of your thing—given your house and all, but we’ve already waited way too long and I don’t want to risk you getting into trouble.” Kurt felt his fingers twitch nervously over Blaine’s for a split second, and he pulled his hand back to himself.

Kurt had only recently struck up the notion to look up known penalties for all the things that Blaine had done and had been more than a little startled—but not altogether too surprised—to find that the consequences were pretty steep. From 2 years jail time to being dealt _Avada Kedavra_ , the killing curse, depending on the state of the “victim”. Kurt sharing his findings with Blaine had been what had spurred them into action, into actually setting a date to get all of these things out in the open.

Blaine’s eyes lifted to meet Kurt’s gaze as he bit his lip, chewing on it gently for a moment before letting it go and asking quietly, “Why… Why didn’t you ever report me? You know, before?”

Kurt paused, and blinked once, slowly, kind of surprised even though he’d asked himself that exact same thing on a number of occasions. Not so much recently, or really, not at all recently, but he had thought about it a few times when this whole thing with them had first gotten started. He remembered specifically telling Finn not to Floo-call his dad that day in the Hufflepuff dorms because  then, half his mind had been on his dad. Both the fact that he was still recovering from being sick last year—even though he insisted that he was fine—and the fact that he hadn’t wanted his dad to see him like that. The other half of his mind had, naturally, been on Blaine. He hadn’t wanted to say anything to his dad, mostly because of those other things, but also because he hadn’t known where he stood with Blaine yet.

He hadn’t wanted to get him into trouble, Kurt realized suddenly, even then.

Kurt opened his mouth, prepared to answer Blaine’s question truthfully, but shut it abruptly when he realized something else. He slapped a hand against his forehead, the resounding _smack_ causing a few heads to turn in his direction but he paid them no mind. His mouth flopped open and closed repeatedly for a few moments, trying and failing to form things called words and not just appalled ‘ohmygods’ that really just came out as nonsense.

Blaine scowled at him, impatient. “What the fuck is the matter with you?”

Kurt’s gaze shot back to his boyfriend and he frowned deeply before he stood and started shoving things in his bag. Blaine quickly followed his example. The two of them were in the hallway, striding towards their rooms when Kurt found use of his words again.

“Kurt, what the hell is—”

“Figgins fucking lied to me.” He said, his voice dripping with disdain and anger. “He _lied_.”

“What are you even _talking_ about?” Blaine said, completely confused, but Kurt didn’t open his mouth again until the two of them were safely locked up in their rooms.

Kurt dropped down on the couch with and undignified ‘fwump’, tossing his bag onto the floor beside his feet before grabbing one of the decorative pillows he’d made Blaine buy and curling himself around it.

“Babe,” Blaine said softly, sitting down on the coffee table right across from Kurt. His impatience had inevitably turned to concern once he saw how dejected Kurt was starting to look. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Kurt sniffled a little—he wasn’t crying, but he was damn well on his way because, why the hell had Figgins lied to him? He felt stupid for not realizing it himself, given who his father was and what he was known best for. “The morning after the night you claimed me I—I went to Figgins.” Kurt swallowed thickly, anxious, because he’d never said anything to Blaine about this before. “I was pissed off and scared and hurt and I told him what you did.” His gaze caught Blaine’s briefly before skirting away, “I told him that you raped me.”

“Oh.” Blaine muttered, just under his breath, but he didn’t look too surprised.

“And he told me that there was nothing he could do, that _“The wizarding world has never and will never tamper around with veela laws and society”_.”

Blaine stared at him for half a second before his eyebrows slowly started to lift. “Well, obviously that’s not true. It hasn’t been ever since your dad got elected as Minister.”

“I know. I still don’t get why he fucking lied to me though.” He lifted a hand to his mouth, staring off to Blaine’s right at some tacky picture on the wall that he kept forgetting to take down, completely lost in thought as he chewed distractedly on his thumb nail. “I mean, he downright treated me like shit.”

Blaine was still and quiet for a while before he leaned in and grabbed Kurt’s hand, drawing it away from his mouth and bringing the boy’s attention back to him. “This probably will come as a slight shock to you—Most people don’t really know this, but Figgins isn’t… human.”

“W—” Kurt’s mouth snapped shut as he realized exactly what it was Blaine was trying to say. “Motherfucker.”

Figgins wasn’t human. He fell under the category of supernatural creatures that had been slammed with the new restrictions, and was likely one of the ones who wasn’t all too happy about it.

Figgins hadn’t refrained from helping Kurt because he _couldn’t_ , he hadn’t helped Kurt because he hadn’t fucking wanted to.

“Fuck.” Kurt hissed again. “ _Fuck_.”

“Kurt, stop saying fuck.”

* * *

Blaine stood, bouncing from foot to foot, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he stood with Kurt and his brother outside a slightly more upscale restaurant in Hogsmeade, anxiously waiting for their parents to arrive. He blew out a long, slow, breath, trying to cool his nerves… and come to peace with the fact that by the end of the night, he’d likely be sitting in a jail cell.

He looked over at his mate, who was dressed impeccably as he usually was in pale blue robes with silver stitching and a dark colored pair of pants. Blaine studied Kurt for a moment, noticing that the other boy didn’t even look half as worried about this as he himself was. Kurt was just so sure that everything would turn out fine, but Blaine was a realist, and he’d already laid out the reasons to Kurt why everything _wasn’t_ going to be fine.

One: Blaine had essentially broken _three_ out of the four laws that had been set out to keep supernatural creatures in check. Two: This was Burt Hummel they were dealing with—the _father_ of the boy he’d quite literally fucked over. It would be stupid on Blaine’s part to even have a sliver of a hope that the man wouldn’t jump straight across the table and stab him in the throat with his fork once he heard the news.

And if Blaine was being completely honest with himself, which he nearly always was, he felt that he… kind of deserved it.

He didn’t particularly want to go to jail—or, you know, die. But his human side was winning out against his veela on this issue. He felt so bad—was practically sick half the time mulling over all the things he’d done to his mate. And he wanted, _needed_ to be punished for it. In a way that was something more than the proverbial slap on the wrist Kurt had given him.

Blaine loved his mate to death, he did, but he was too nice for his own good. Blaine didn’t deserve an ounce of his sympathy, of his understanding or his trust. But the fact remained that he had it, and he held it dearly.

Blaine let out another sigh, the breath puffing out of his mouth in a wispy cloud, shaking his head a little at his thoughts. He eyed Kurt a little more closely, gnawing at his lip indecisively for a second before, “Hey, Kurt?” The boy in question turned to look at him, letting out a soft, questioning hum. “Do you think that maybe—I-I could get another kiss from you before your dad incarcerates me?”

Kurt rolled his eyes, even as he took a step forward and accepted the heated, desperate kiss Blaine offered. “He’s not going to do that.” Kurt said on a gasp of breath as they finally parted. “I won’t let him.”

Blaine rested his forehead against his boyfriend’s, swallowing against the sudden lump that had risen in his throat. “He’s not going to listen to you—I just know it. He’s gonna think I brainwashed you either way and I am so _fucked_.”

“It’s gonna be fine.” Kurt assured him, not for the first time that day. “We’ll just stick to the plan, okay? First, we’ll ease them into the boyfriend thing, we’ll eat, and then once they’ve taken away all the plates and the sharp objects we’ll tell them everything else. Okay?”

Blaine nodded, his voice nothing short of a whisper when he spoke. “Okay.”

“Just let me do most of the talking. I don’t really think my dad will be inclined to listen to anything you have to say after I tell him you’re my boyfriend. He’ll probably ask what happened with Chandler because I never really got a chance to talk to him about that…”

Blaine opened his mouth to speak, not really sure what he was even about to say when Finn spoke up from his spot a couple feet away. “Um… Kurt? Why am I here again?”

Kurt turned to look at him, and Blaine smiled softly to himself at the fond look his mate gave his brother. “We’re having a family meeting, Finn.”

“Oh.” He blinked, looking a little confused as his eyes moved to rest on Blaine. “Then what’s Blaine doing here?”

Kurt visibly hesitated a moment before replying. “Well… He’s kind of family now, too.”

“Oh.” Finn said again, if anything looking even more confused than he had been before. “Because of you guys being mates, or whatever?”

Kurt nodded slightly. “Yes. And—please don’t mention that, okay? Me and Blaine really want to tell Dad, preferably in a way that won’t end with Blaine getting into any trouble.”

“Why would he get in trouble?”

Kurt sighed, folding his arms around himself protectively. “It’s a long story, Finn. But to cut it short, we’re not supposed to be mated. We’re not of age and we don’t have a specially issued Claim License.”

Blaine didn’t dare mention the third, more important thing that Kurt had left out. It was probably best that Finn didn’t know for now, though the veela recognized the fact that by the end of the night the boy would probably know anyway.

Best to keep the peace for as long as possible.

Both sets of their parents (and Blaine’s older brother, Cooper) came waltzing down the sidewalk from opposite directions, right on time. Kurt gave Blaine’s arm a gentle squeeze of encouragement before slipping away to go greet his dad and stepmother. After a moment, Blaine turned to greet his family as well. They met back in the middle a minute later, and Blaine swallowed thickly at the suspicious once over he was given from his mate’s father before Kurt broke the awkward silence.

“Who’s ready to eat?”

* * *

There were really no words to describe how awkward and nervous Kurt was suddenly starting to feel. It had all started outside the restaurant, just the _look_ his dad had given him, as if he knew something more than what he’d vaguely hinted to in his letter was going on. He was worried. So fucking worried. But he had to do this—and do it right. Both his and Blaine’s lives depended on it.

The lot of them had been seated at a large, half-circle booth in a secluded section of the restaurant, with Kurt and Blaine sitting next to each other in the middle. Their brothers were on the either side of them, respectively, followed by the women, and then their fathers sitting on the end-seats.

It was a good seating arrangement because Kurt’s dad was as far as he could possibly be away from Blaine, but a lousy one as well. The two of them were trapped, right there in between their families, and they wouldn’t be able to make a break for it if need be.

Kurt hoped that need wouldn’t arise.

Everyone had been introduced by the time their drinks had been served, and a light conversation had been floating around the table. Kurt was relieved to see that his dad and Blaine’s seemed to get on just fine, given the fact that Mr. Anderson was well known veela in the Wizarding community and given the laws that Kurt’s own dad had instilled. The two of them had just finished chatting about something politically related when Burt sat back in his seat, turning to look toward his son.

He drummed his fingers lightly on the table, skirting his gaze between Kurt and Blaine for a second before he finally asked, “So, kiddo. How’s that boyfriend of yours? You haven’t been talking about him near as much as you used to in your letters.”

“Oh.” Kurt looked down, feeling his heartbeat start to speed up. He also felt Blaine go entirely tense at the mention of Chandler, but he went for an air of complete nonchalance. “That’s probably because there was nothing to talk about.” He fiddled a little with the straw in his water and stared at the bright, golden yellow wedge of a lemon floating on the surface before lifting his gaze back up to his father’s. “We actually broke up a couple months ago. I’m with Blaine now.”

Burt straightened as he watched his son slip his hand over the top of the Anderson boy’s on the table, his eyes narrowing at the sight. “And what exactly happened between you and Chandler? And why am I _just now_ hearing about this?”

“Nothing really happened.” Kurt said carefully after a moment of thought, stroking his fingers over the back of Blaine’s hand to get him to calm down. He could practically feel the veela’s hackles rising. “We just… grew apart. And then I—I found someone better.”

“You found someone better.” His dad said, deadpan.

“How long have you two been dating?” Mr. Anderson interrupted Kurt before he could answer his father, giving the teen a warm smile. Kurt breathed a silent sigh of relief. He was glad that he’d decided, last minute, to get Blaine to tell his parents about them being mated through his letter. After all, the two of them would need someone on their team.

“Just a little under two months.” Blaine answered for him.

“The same amount of time Kurt has been broken up with Chandler.” Kurt’s dad observed. He gave his son an annoyed, speculating look. “Kurt, what the hell is going on here?”

Kurt thought about telling his dad then, he did, but then he realized all the sharp objects that could ever even possibly exist were still spread out all across their table and he couldn’t. He wasn’t going to run the risk of his dad hurting Blaine. (He was still trying to ignore the point that Blaine had made earlier—they were wizards. They had wands. They didn’t really need sharp objects to inflict significant damage. But Kurt hoped that they wouldn’t have to worry about that, as it was pretty much illegal to pull out your wand in anything other than self-defense or friendly “gestures” in public places like this.) He panicked for a short second before sagging in relief when he spotted two waiters headed their way with their orders.

He pasted a smile on his face, letting out an excited, “Food’s here!” Making everyone turn to look and see the waiters.

Kurt sighed a little to himself.

Crisis averted. For now.

They ate quietly for the most part, light conversation going around the table for a while. Kurt was more than content to stay quiet unless directly asked a question, squeezing Blaine’s hand comfortingly beneath the table every once in a while to calm both his and the veela’s nerves.

Blaine leaned in slightly, his lips pressed right up against Kurt’s ear as he whispered, “Your dad is _staring_ at me.”

Kurt looked up at his dad, who had his eyes narrowed dangerously on Blaine, and the elder Hummel glared at his son as well for a second before turning his attention back to his plate. “It’s okay.” Kurt whispered back, turning to Blaine. “I think he’s just trying to figure us out.”

“Well he should stop.” Blaine muttered, spearing a piece of chicken with his fork and shoving it passed his pouted lips. “It’s freakin’ me out.”

Kurt gave a soft, sympathetic smile, giving his boyfriend a gentle on the knee before picking up his fork and aimlessly tossing the green leaves of his salad. He didn’t feel much like eating. His stomach was turning in over itself with nerves.

Everything—both his and Blaine’s futures were riding on this night. He had to do this right, pick out all the proper words to convince his dad that Blaine wasn’t forcing him into this. He actually wanted this for himself and there was no other reason he was doing this, well. Besides the fact that he didn’t want to spend a lifetime visiting Blaine in a jail cell just to keep himself and his boyfriend from going crazy.

“So, Anderson.”

All four Anderson’s looked up at that, but Burt gestured the eldest three away with a flick of his wrist, his eyes trained solely on Blaine, who stiffened and straightened in his seat at the attention. Kurt himself felt his heart sink a little at the expression on his father’s face.

“Yes, sir?” Blaine piped up, forcing a smile.

“I was just wondering… What are your intentions with my son?” Burt said, his voice hard, and Kurt felt his cheeks go hot.

“Well—”

“Because, you say the two of you have only been dating two months,” Burt interrupted, “And now we’re having a “family dinner”?”

Blaine cleared his throat, his eyes flicking nervously to Kurt, then to his lap. He looked more uncomfortable than he had all night, to be honest. He licked his lips slowly, pausing for a second to make sure that his mate’s father was actually going to stay silent long enough to let him speak. “Mr. Hummel, I assure you my intentions are pure.”

“Are they?”

Carole frowned deeply at her husband, squeezing his forearm firmly, a clear warning. “ _Burt_.”

Blaine’s face twisted into a slightly bewildered expression as he looked back at the man. He was trying his best to push back his veela, which was getting more and more upset about his relationship with his mate being questioned so directly. “Yes, of course they are. I love Kurt.”

“Oh,” Burt scoffed a little to himself, rolling his eyes. He looked between his son and the Anderson boy skeptically. “So you love him now, all the sudden?”

“Yes.” Blaine said, his eyes narrowing into a glare. He felt Kurt’s hand on his arm, but he shrugged it off. “Do you have a fucking problem with that?”

Burt’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but his expression relaxed into a sarcastic smirk soon after. “Yes.” He said clearly, “I do. I don’t believe you. And I don’t like you.”

“Dad!” Kurt hissed, his nails digging into Blaine’s forearm to keep him from launching across the table. This night wasn’t going the way it was supposed to, not at all. “Will you just _stop_?” Burt looked back to his son, his face blank, and Kurt gave a heavy sigh as he said, “Me and Blaine are together. We really—” He hesitated visibly for a split second, “We really like each other, okay? And nothing you say is going to change that.”

Burt gave a noncommittal hum, glaring at his son at his boyfriend for another long moment before turning his gaze away to look across the busy restaurant. A few patrons had turned to look at them once the argument had started up, but they quickly turned away once they saw Burt looking at them.

Kurt relaxed only slightly when it looked like his father had given up his interrogations, thanking Mr. Anderson and Blaine’s older brother Cooper silently when they drew the brooding old man into a conversation about some new legislation that the Council was trying to pass.

“Blaine,” Kurt started quietly, turning to completely face his boyfriend and holding his gaze steadily. His voice shook a little when he spoke, “This isn’t going to work if you make him mad at you.”

“I’m so sorry.” Blaine said, his shoulders sagging a little in defeat. “Baby—”

“Just—” Kurt swallowed heavily, turning his gaze away. “Don’t curse at him. You’re making it worse.”

“Kurt—”

“Just be quiet.” He continued, his voice suddenly sharp, but still quiet in tone. “I’ll do the talking, like we planned and… and—Just shut your fucking mouth, Blaine, I’m serious.” Kurt looked back at his boyfriend, then, glaring slightly even though his eyes were a little misty. “I don’t want you to go to jail.”

“I know.” Blaine muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry.”

Kurt nodded, leaning in and pressing a lingering kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek. When he pulled back he caught everyone at the table—sans Burt and Finn (who was paying more attention to his food than anything else)—giving them a soft look. Kurt blushed scarlet, turning away from Blaine quickly.

It was only a few minutes later when Burt spoke up again with a weighted sigh, eying the couple at the center of the table for the millionth time that night. “So what do you two want?”

“Dad—” Kurt started, exasperated, but Burt waved his hand at him.

“I’m not stupid, kid. I know you want something. The two of you wouldn’t have arranged a dinner like this, otherwise. Now what is it?”

“Dad,” Kurt said slowly, looking at Blaine out of the corner of his eye, but the other boy looked just as clueless as he did. “Can we talk about this later?” He asked, but he already had a good feeling on what the answer on that would be.

“Now or never.”

Precisely that.

“I…” Kurt hedged, glancing around the table. All the sharp objects were still scattered all over the table. Kurt saw them as bad omens—he didn’t want to do this right now. “Dad…”

“You’re a veela, right?” Burt asked Blaine.

Blaine pressed his lips together firmly, heeding Kurt’s earlier warnings, and nodded his head.

Burt nodded to himself as well, turning back to his son. “Thought so. I—” He laughed a little to himself, though it was humorless. “I find it a little silly, but.” He looked at the two of them carefully. “I know the two of you aren’t here to ask me to specially issue you a Claim License.” He muttered, eating a little bit more food from his plate, while the Andersons, Kurt, and Finn tensed at how nearly he’d hit the mark. “There’s no way I’d do that. And Kurt.” Burt looked at his son, taking in his stricken expression and figuring he’d hit the nail on the head. He shook his head, setting his fork down and pushing his plate aside. He leaned in, saying softly, almost as though to comfort, or settle someone for a blow, “Kid, I know you think you like this boy, but frankly, I think it’s a little irresponsible for you to be dating him. He could find his soul mate at any second and then where would you be?”

“Dad, no.” Kurt said quickly, his heart squeezing a little in his chest at the thought of Blaine with someone other than himself. “That’s not it, it’s actually…” Kurt paused to look at his boyfriend, making sure it was okay that he continued before saying, “It’s actually the opposite of that.”

Burt blinked, confused. “Oh?”

“Um… yeah.” Kurt said weakly, his gaze lowering from his father’s to the wooden table top. “Me and Blaine are soul mates, Dad. We found out back in—in August. That’s why I broke up with Chandler.”

Burt straightened a little in his seat, having a sinking feeling he knew where this was going. “So what do you want from me, if not a Claim License? If you’re asking me if you can mate with him the answer is no. Absolutely not.”

Kurt flinched at those words, his breath hitching a little in his chest as his eyes started to tear up. _Fuck_. He tried in vain to keep the tears at bay, feeling his boyfriend squeeze his hand firmly under the table. Maybe Blaine would’ve been better for this, after all. “No, it’s not that.” He said, his voice just above a whisper to keep his voice from cracking. “I— _we_. Would like for you to grant him leniency, b-because—”

“Kurt—” Burt started, feeling his stomach swoop violently at the thought of _his_ kid…

But Kurt just talked over him, his voice slowly growing in volume until it reached normal tones. “E-Even though it’s against the rules we already—”

“Kurt.” Burt cut in firmly, and his son’s gaze shot up to meet his. “Did he force you—”

“No!” Kurt hissed, his eyes wild, and even though Burt noticed he still relaxed at that.

All until… “Yes I did.”

Burt felt his blood go cold at the same exact moment Kurt whipped around to face the other boy, his expression confused and, Burt was surprised to find, hurt. “Blaine! What the hell are you doing? I told you the shut the fuck up!”

Blaine stared at Kurt for a moment before lowering his gaze. “I’m not going to let you lie to your dad, Kurt, I’m sorry.”

“That’s fucking rich.” Burt mumbled scathingly under his breath, glaring daggers at Blaine from across the table, barely restraining himself from grabbing his wand and throwing a few painful spells in his direction. “A rapist with morals.”

Kurt glanced between his dad and his boyfriend for a second before breaking out into full-out sobs, getting up on his knees in his seat to be able to reach his dad from his spot. He grabbed his father’s hands, holding them tightly in his own. “Dad, please, _please_! You _have_ to! Please don’t make Blaine—”

Burt stared at his son, his heart breaking for him, but there was no way in all seven hells he was going to let someone that molested his one and only child go free. Kurt just had a severe case of Stockholm, that was all. He slowly slipped his hands from his son’s tight grip, shaking his head as he stood. “No.” He grabbed his wallet from his back pocket, pulling out a few galleons and tossing them carelessly on the table. “Come on, Carole. Boys, let’s go.” He turned his gaze to Blaine, his eyes narrowed in the most severe expression Kurt had ever seen them in. “I expect to see you at the Ministry within the hour.”

Blaine didn’t say anything, only blinked and turned away, finding himself with and armful of Kurt a second later, who was sobbing, completely uninhibited into his shoulder. His mate’s arms were so tight around him that they nearly cut his air supply clean off. “Blaine, I’m so sorry.”

“Shh,” Blaine hushed him, brushing his lips against his mate’s temple. “Don’t be. None of this is your fault. I brought all of this upon myself.”

“Kurt.” Burt called out, his voice hard. “Come on.”

Kurt’s arms, if anything, tightened even further around Blaine, and he didn’t even look up as he said, “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Cooper leaned in then, peering at Kurt, who had his chin hooked over Blaine’s right shoulder. “You should go with your father, sweetheart.” He said softly, his own eyes a little wet. “Go on, now.”

“No.” Kurt buried his face a little further into Blaine’s warmth. “I c-can’t just let—”

“Blaine made his bed.” Mr. Anderson cut in, his voice firm, though a little sad. “He made his decisions—knowing the rules. And now he has to live with the consequences. There’s nothing you can do about that.”

Kurt felt a few more tears leak out of his eyes and a small sob escaped passed his lips. “But—”

“You’ll see him soon.” Mrs. Anderson said, as though reading his mind. “No doubt.”

“Blaine.” Kurt whined softly, pulling back a little to look up at his boyfriend. “Blaine.”

“I know, baby.” Blaine whispered, carding his fingers through Kurt’s hair, for what was likely the last time. “I know this sucks, but we’ll figure it out.”

“Together?” Kurt asked, his voice hopeful.

Blaine only had time to press a single, lingering, sweet kiss to his mate’s lips before he was pulled away from him completely, kicking and screaming. He bit his lip, feeling his chest tighten, both with the urge to cry and the visceral need to tear the one hurting his mate limb from limb.

He gave a soft sigh as his mate and his family disapparated before his eyes, whispering quietly, and much too late, “Together.”


	10. Chapter 10

**10**.

_“And now, it’s time to leave and turn to dust…”_

_Two days_.

“Kurt…”

Kurt scowled at the sound of his father’s voice floating into his room from his bedroom doorway, his expression immediately easing out and a whimper bubbling up out of his throat at the shockwave of pain that shot up his nerve endings at the slight movement.

It’d been two days since Kurt had last laid eyes on Blaine, and in those last two days, his body had practically turned itself inside out. It hurt to move. It hurt to blink, to breathe. What had started out as a dull buzzing beneath his skin had gradually morphed into a heavy, immobilizing ache. Kurt couldn’t help but feel a slight bit of animosity towards the person keeping him away from his boyfriend, because of that.

After being ripped away from the restaurant, and Blaine’s arms, Kurt had been taken back to their family home in London, which wasn’t too far from the Ministry. If Kurt would’ve had any type of energy to attempt such feats, he probably would’ve tried to go and find Blaine. Or do something remotely constructive, something other than lying in his bed wasting away, minute by minute.

He curled up a little further on his bed, pressing his face into the plushy pillow on his bed and burrowing himself under his blankets, even though the feeling of the fabric brushing over him kind of made him want to jump out of his skin.

Kurt swallowed thickly and winced, his voice coming out as a gravelly grunt as he said, “Go away.” He gave a soft, annoyed hum when he heard his father shuffle further into the room.

“Kurt, I know you’re upset.” Burt murmured quietly as he took a seat beside his son’s prone form on the bed. He had half a mind to reach out and touch him, but thought better of it at the last second. “I know you probably won’t now, but eventually you’ll be able to understand—”

“Understand _what_?” Kurt hissed, sitting up on his elbows and turning glaring eyes on his father, even despite the pain. “That you’re willing to put my _boyfriend_ in jail over one stupid mistakeand let me rot here under the pretense of some—”

“Mistake?” Burt said, his voice growing slightly in volume. “Is that what he called it? He raped you, Kurt—”

Kurt flinched slightly, but his eyes were still blazing. He reached up, running his hand through his hair, pulling hard at the strands. He had a couple things he wanted to say, things like _“I know that. I was_ there _.”_ But he knew saying that wouldn’t help his and Blaine’s case any.

“He didn’t mean it like that.” Kurt settled on finally.

Burt scoffed a little under his breath, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter, Kurt. I put laws like this in place to protect people like you from people like him, who think they can just take whatever they want and get away with it.”

Kurt scrubbed a hand over his face, over his eyes to brush away the tears that were starting to well up. He knew his dad was right, goddammit, he _did_. But it still hurt to have Blaine so far away from him, both physically and not. He was worried sick at the thought of his boyfriend locked up in a cell somewhere.

Kurt bit his lip, looking at his dad, his eyes pleading. “I-I—You have to let me see him.”

Burt’s eyes stormed over a bit at that, and for a second, Kurt thought for sure he was going to say no, but then, “You’ll see him soon enough.” He stood up and walked out of the room without another word.

Kurt figured that by the time “soon enough” came, he’d probably need someone to carry him around.

* * *

 _Three days_.

Finn came into Kurt’s room early on Tuesday morning, kneeling down on the edge of his bed to shake him awake. “Hey. Kurt?”

Kurt grumbled a little bit to himself, hissing a little at the dull ache Finn’s touch brought on. He shrugged off the hand, blinking his eyes open—he hadn’t been sleeping anyway. He couldn’t, without Blaine—and slowly turning over to face his brother. “ _What_?”

“Uh…” Finn startled back at Kurt’s sharp tone, blinking quickly. He gave the back of his head an awkward scratch, glancing toward the open door and taking a small step towards it. “Breakfast is ready.”

Kurt rolled back over to face the wall, trying to tame his glare, because really, it hurt him more than it did anything else. “I’m not hungry, Finn.”

Finn shifted slightly in his spot, noticeably uncomfortable. “I know that’s not true. You’ve barely eaten anything since we’ve gotten here.”

“I’m not _hungry_ , Finn.” Kurt said sharply, tugging the blanket up over his head. “Get the fuck out of my room.”

Kurt was more than a little surprised when the blanket was pulled off of him, and the bed, completely. He shivered at the blast of cold air that hit him, looking up with wide eyes to find that Finn was staring down at him, a small frown on his lips.

“Look, Kurt.” Finn started slowly, “I know you’re sad about Blaine, or whatever. I still don’t really understand what’s going on with that—but you’re not gonna do him any good if you don’t start taking care of yourself.”

Kurt stared up at his brother for a moment before he dropped his gaze. Tears started to pool in his eyes, then fall, spattering wet drops all across his silk pajama top. “I know, Finn. But I—I can’t.”

“Kurt, yes you—”

“No.” Kurt interrupted firmly, moving his eyes back to meet Finn’s. “You don’t get it. I physically _can’t_. Being away from Blaine like this makes me sick—it makes me ache to the point where I can’t move. It hurts to.”

Finn gaped at Kurt a little, his eyebrows slowly starting to knit together. He glanced fleetingly towards the open doorway again before moving to his brother, sitting beside him on the bed. “Does Burt know? That it, like, hurts to be away from Blaine or whatever—”

“Of course he does. He doesn’t seem to _care_ much though,” Kurt muttered, annoyed.

“He’s willing to just let you…” Finn sputtered uselessly, “Even though it…”

“Apparently.”

The two of them were quiet for a few moments, and Kurt already knew what was coming, what Finn was preparing himself to say. He could practically feel it.

“Hey, Kurt?” Finn said quietly. Kurt gave a questioning hum, letting his eyes slide back shut as he relaxed against his pillows. “I know you probably don’t really want to talk about it… But the other day, you know, in the restaurant.” He trailed off after a moment, but then, “It took me a while to get it, but I overheard Burt having a Floo-call this morning and I just—Did Blaine really do that to you?”

Kurt bit his lip, almost tempted to lie—but if Finn had overheard something, there was really no point in doing that, now was it? “Yeah.” He whispered, his eyes fluttering open to gauge Finn’s reaction.

Finn didn’t really have much of one, to be honest. He only stared back at Kurt, his eyes narrowed in thought. “That day… When you came to my dorms—was that it?”

Kurt nodded slowly, studying Finn closely. “You’re not mad?” He asked, a little surprised.

“What?” Finn jumped a little, “No—I mean— _yeah_. That asshole put his hands on you without your permission—but… um.” He blinked, scratching the back of his head lightly, then lifting his gaze back up to meet Kurt’s. “I’m not really clear on what’s going on. And you don’t seem to be too upset about it—well, not anymore—so I just… I don’t know—”

“I get it, Finn.” Kurt said finally. “You’re not mad because I’m not.”

“Why aren’t you, though?”

Kurt paused for a second, considering. “I really don’t know.” He said after a minute, scrubbing a tired hand over his face. “I just kind of understand why he did it. He was only acting on his instincts, it’s the way he was taught, Finn—he didn’t fucking _know_ any better. I’m the only one that seems to get that, though…”

Finn raised his hand, to touch or to comfort or something, but Kurt quickly shook his head, and Finn lowered it with a slight pout. “You’re making excuses for him.”

“Wh—”

“I think I get why. You care about him, right?” Kurt nodded a little. “And you don’t want people to say bad stuff about him, and you don’t want him to go to jail… but to everybody else it just seems a little weird because, at the end of the day, he did force himself on you and you’re not even upset about it.”

“Finn.” Kurt said after a moment, lowering gaze as he started to struggle to sit up. “I—I don’t really want to talk about this anymore, if that’s all right with you.”

“That’s fine.” Finn nodded and stood, walking over to the door. He stopped in the doorway when Kurt let out a barely muffled cry of pain. He turned, gripping the doorframe tightly as he watched his little brother strain to get himself into a sitting position. “Does it really hurt that bad?”

“ _Yes_.” Kurt muttered irritably, shooting him a glare. “It does.”

Finn stood there for a good five minutes, watching Kurt and considering all their options before he finally let out a soft sigh and, “You should get dressed, Kurt.”

“For what?” Kurt looked up at him again, but this time he froze, noticing something in Finn’s expression. “What’re you planning?”

“I… I’m going to take you to see Blaine.”

Kurt’s eyes widened a little and he was excited for all of a second before his face fell again. “My dad would never let you—”

“He’s not here right now.” Finn interrupted. “And my mom doesn’t get home from her shift at the hospital for another few hours. If we’re gonna do this we need to—”

“I can barely move Finn, let alone walk—”

“Then I’ll fucking carry you, okay? You’re only going to get worse staying here, and Burt might be prepared to let that happen but—But I’m not. Get dressed.” Finn gave him a look, gestured a little wildly toward the closet before shutting the bedroom door behind him.

Kurt stared after him, more than a little surprised at just how much he cared… because nobody else really seemed to.

* * *

“So how exactly are we supposed to get in here?” Kurt asked as he and Finn stood outside the gates of the Ministry, staring up at the daunting, grey building.

“What’re you talking about?” Finn shifted a little, slipping his arm around Kurt as he started to slump a little beside him.

Kurt thanked him quietly, tightening his fingers on Finn’s waist, crinkling the fabric of his jacket in his fist. Kurt was more than a little dismayed to find that, the closer they got to the Ministry, the worse the “symptoms” of being away from Blaine got, when it was usually the opposite. He knew that Blaine was still in there, he’d heard his dad saying something about holding him there until the trial, which still didn’t have a solid date.

Kurt just wished he’d done a better job of protecting him.

“What, you were planning for us to just walk in?” Kurt asked incredulously, “I don’t think so.”

“Uh, yeah.” Finn said. “If they ask us anything, we’ll just say your dad said it was all right. You know where the holding cells are right?”

Kurt thought about it for a moment, remembering the dumb fieldtrip they’d taken last year to the Ministry, then nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Okay.” Finn directed them towards the gate, then up the path leading to the door. “We’ll just go straight there.”

Kurt didn’t even bother to point out how faulty he thought Finn’s plan was. They’d already come this far and he wasn’t about to back out now. Not when he was in this much pain. He had to at least fucking _try_.

It’s to say, Kurt was pretty damn surprised they got all the way to the entrance of the holding cells without getting anything besides “Good morning!” and “How’re you kids doing today?”. When they got there, however, there was a single guard hovering outside the door, and when he noticed them, he straightened, his eyes flying almost comically wide.

His fingers tightened a little around the wand in his right hand, his eyes flicking nervously toward the door behind him. “Can I—Can I help you boys with something?”

“We’re here to see Blaine.” Finn said simply. He gestured to Kurt, who’s legs were very nearly about to give out. “His dad sent us up here. He said it was okay.”

“I-I’m not sure… I don’t think I’m supposed to—” The guard stuttered, visibly uncomfortable.

“Are you calling us liars, now?” Kurt said suddenly, sharply. “I’m sure my father will be very pleased to hear—”

“Okay!” The guard interrupted, turning around to press his wand against the keyhole on the door and quickly pulling it open. “Okay. Fine.” He ushered them inside, then stepped inside himself before shutting the door. “I’m pretty sure you two are trying to play me—I know goddamn well I’m not supposed to let anyone in here but you,” He gestured to Kurt, giving him a sympathetic once-over, “Look like you’re about to pass out and there’s only one thing that’s going to fix that, so… I’ll give you two a few minutes.”

Kurt muttered an almost inaudible thanks, his eyes moving away from the guard to land on his boyfriend, who was only several feet away from him in his holding cell. Blaine was lying quietly on his bed (or what Kurt thought was meant to be a bed—it was really only a concrete slab protruding out from the right wall. His hair was sticking up all over the place, his outfit the same one he’d been wearing two nights ago at the restaurant. Kurt watched as Blaine snapped to attention, the movement so sudden it nearly startled him back a step, his nose lifting to the air and sniffing for a second before his eyes went straight to his mate.

“Kurt?” The name fell out of barely parted lips, spoken softly, just above a whisper.

Kurt let out a soft sound, nothing short of a whimper, as his gaze met Blaine’s for the first time in what felt like forever. He startled a little at the jolt that went up his spine as their eyes connected—it made Kurt’s breath catch, filled him with something warm and unexplainably intense. Before Kurt even realized he was moving, he was all the way across the room, tightly clutching Blaine’s coat as they made a mess out of trying to hug each other through the narrow bars.

He only half heard Finn yelling at the guard about something, only really becoming aware of it when the guard tried pulling him away from Blaine.

Blaine growled loudly, his hand quickly darting through the bars, latching onto Kurt and pulling him in closer.

“I’m not trying to take him away from you, Anderson.” The guard said carefully. “Just let go for a second, take a few steps back.”

Blaine narrowed his eyes, which had gone almost completely black as soon as the guard had stepped up beside his mate, and did as he was told. The guard watched him for a moment to make sure he was going to stay put before slowly stepping up to the bars, pulling a key out of his pocket and pressing it into the lock before pulling his wand out to get rid of the second, and third, level of magical locks.

“I’m going to let you in here with him.” The guard said, eyeing Kurt. “But I’m going to have to lock the door back once you get in there. Are you all right with that?”

Kurt nodded, thanking the guard profusely before he slid the cell gate open a slight ways, just enough for him to be able to step inside. The gate closed behind him with a heavy creak, but the sound had barely even registered as at that very moment, he was enveloped tightly in Blaine’s arms.

“Fuck.” Kurt breathed out a long sigh, sagging in relief as the aches and pains and stiffness he’d felt over the past couple of days completely melted away at Blaine’s touch. Kurt hugged him back, just as tightly, and felt him do the same.

The two of them were soon sitting in a near-heap on the cold, concrete floor, Kurt practically in Blaine’s lap as they sat side by side, still hugging each other. Kurt felt his throat start to tighten and constrict as it suddenly hit him. _Really_ hit him.

Blaine was in jail.

Kurt was sitting next to Blaine, who was in jail, in the cell where he was being held for “Unsolicited Claiming” charges Kurt didn’t even want to press.

“A-Are you—” Kurt started to ask, but Blaine knew him too well.

He lightly brushed his fingers over Kurt’s unstyled hair—he hadn’t had the energy to bother with that, this morning—as he said, “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.” Kurt argued, though he didn’t lift his head up from Blaine’s shoulder. “You’re in _jail_ , Blaine and it’s… it’s all my fault.”

Blaine squeezed his arm firmly, waiting until Kurt was meeting his gaze to say softly, “No it’s not. You and I both know that none of this is your fault, Kurt.”

Kurt put his head back on Blaine’s shoulder and nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck, letting his eyes shut as a wave of tiredness washed over him.

“It still kind of feels like it.”

* * *

When Kurt’s eyes opened again—it was to yelling. He blinked his eyes groggily, realizing he must’ve fallen asleep. It would make sense, given the fact he hadn’t been able to have a proper night’s sleep without Blaine by his side.

He was lying flat on his back on something hard, something he figured must’ve been the concrete slab of a bed—with Blaine stretched out on top of him, his face buried in Kurt’s shoulder. He wasn’t sleeping, not by any means. He was in full out veela mode, with his fangs and his dark, dangerous gaze. While Kurt was sleeping, Blaine had apparently taken it upon himself to reopen the mark he’d made on Kurt’s shoulder, two months ago on their claiming night.

Kurt left him to it—it didn’t hurt, not really—lazily carding his fingers through Blaine’s messy dark curls before letting his head loll to the right so that he could see what was going on outside the cell.

His dad stood tense, a deep scowl on his face as he stood across from Finn and shouted obscenities at him. Finn himself looked a little confused, as he always did, and more than a little defensive.

“You had no right, Finn!” Burt shouted. “I left you at home with Kurt with _clear_ instructions! _One_ goddamn rule you had to follow!”

Finn’s eyebrows lifted slightly, “Well, you didn’t bother to mention the fact that Kurt would be in _pain_! I wasn’t going to sit there and let him stay that way.” His shoulders slumped a little as he continued, glancing over and briefly meeting Kurt’s gaze before looking back at Burt. “I’m not wired like that. I’m not _you_.”

Burt flinched, visibly. “Just because I don’t want my son around this monster—”

“It’s practically killing them to stay apart—”

“He raped your brother, Finn.” Burt said loudly, his eyes wild as he pointed jerkily at the couple on the bed. “Now tell me I don’t have a reason to be upset about this.”

“You do. You _do_ —it’s just. It should be Kurt’s choice,” Finn said quietly, sincerely, “Whether or not he wants to press charges against Blaine. I mean, they’re soul mates, Burt. Kurt knows him best.”

“I don’t care what Kurt wants.” Burt growled. “I am pressing charges against him for what he did, if it’s the last thing I do.”

Kurt’s eyes moved away from the pair up to Blaine, who was still mouthing messily at his shoulder. “Honey.” Kurt swept a few stray strands of hair back off of the veela’s forehead, his throat tight. He waited until Blaine met his gaze to continue. “Wh-What do you want me to do?”

His head tilted to the side just so, questioning. “About what?” He asked softly, starting to slowly pull himself up until he was straddling Kurt’s waist, his palms pressed flat against his chest. There was blood smeared all around his mouth and a thin line of it going across his cheek, making him look a bit more vampire-esque than usual.

“About you, here. How do you want me to help you? I-I don’t know what to do, Blaine. What do I do?”

Blaine stared down at him for a long moment, his eyes still dark, a telling sign that his veela was still pretty close to the surface. His fingers curled over his pectorals, almost stroking the skin over the thin shirt that Kurt wore before he sighed shortly and, “Nothing.”

Kurt stared back up at him, his eyes wide. “N-Noth—”

“Nothing, Kurt.” Blaine said, a little more loudly this time, startling the pair outside the cell into silence. “As in go home or go to classes, or whatever. Just—I don’t want you fooling around with this stuff.”

“It’s not _stuff_ , Blaine,” Kurt argued, trying to sit up on his elbows, but Blaine only shoved him back down. “I’m not just going to leave you to rot here—”

“ _No_ , Kurt.” Blaine interrupted. “No. Just… no.”

Kurt gave him a level look, ignoring his dad who was trying to get his attention. “Blaine—” he started, exasperated.

“No!” Blaine exploded, his eyes narrowed into a glare that wasn’t entirely directed at his mate. “I don’t want your fucking help, okay?”

Kurt stared up at his boyfriend with wide eyes that were just starting to brim with tears. “B-Blaine—”

“Kurt,” Blaine sighed softly, though he was still glaring, and brushed his thumb just under his mate’s eye. “Kurt, I don’t want you help.” He said quietly. “I don’t deserve it.” Kurt opened his mouth to interrupt, but Blaine held up his hand. “I don’t want it. I won’t accept it.”

It only took Kurt a few seconds to fully register what Blaine had said, and another for the full out sobs to start. Blaine scrambled off of him to gather him up in his arms.

“Come on now, Kurt.” Burt called out, his voice loud but still a bit hesitant. “You’ve been here long enough. It’s time for us to go home.”

Kurt clung tighter to Blaine—he wasn’t ready to go. There was really no telling when they’d be able to see each other like this again. He pressed his face into Blaine’s neck, intending to inhale in his scent to have something to remember him by tonight when he was at home and curled up all alone in his bed.

Kurt choked halfway through the breath, letting out a broken sob. “Oh my god.” He groaned as his eyes started to water even further and his nose started to sting. “Oh my god, Blaine, you _smell_.”

* * *

 _Two weeks_.

Burt was seated upstairs in his study, bowed over his desk with his face buried in his hands. A thick folder lay open in front of him, the paper just on top anxiously awaiting his signature. He slid his hands down his face, peering from just over the top of them at the quill next to the stack of papers, and then the dotted line.

He didn’t know what to do.

Sure, he wanted his son to be happy. Of course he did. But what if his son being happy meant that he had to let his rapist go free?

That might make _Kurt_ happy, but Burt knew if he did that he’d never be able to live with himself.

Burt gnawed nervously on his bottom lip, slowly reaching for the quill.

There was a soft knock on the door, and a second later, Carole poked her head around it to look into the room. “Burt, honey,” She said softly, giving him a warm smile. “Dinner’s ready.”

Burt glanced up at her, then back down at the papers. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

Carole nodded a little, studying her husband closely. She stepped further into the room, shutting the door back behind her. “Are you all right?”

“Carole.” Burt said slowly, giving her a nonplussed look. “You know I’m not.”

“Have you… still not decided, yet?” She asked, her voice light and tentative.

“No.” Burt said, after a moment. He rubbed roughly at his eyes and slammed the quill back down on the desk. “I know what I should do…” He mumbled, “I just… Kurt—”

Carole moved across the room quickly, coming up behind her husband and wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders. “I know, sweetie.” She said softly. “I know it’s hard. But I know in the end, whatever you choose, it’ll be the right thing for this family.”

Carole left only minutes later after giving a few more words of encouragement, and Burt sighed shortly to himself when he was alone again. He stared hard at the door, then moved his eyes back to the papers that were meant to confirm Anderson’s trial date.

Before he could convince himself otherwise, he quickly grabbed the quill and scribbled his name on the line, tossing the thing aside when he was done and sitting back in his chair, exhaling a hard breath.

It was for the best.

* * *

 _Three months_.

In the Muggle world, most people didn’t get trials immediately after they went to jail for committing their crimes. The wizarding world wasn’t any different.

The past few months had been more than a little difficult for Blaine and Kurt, but things had gotten considerably better when they discovered that drinking a small amount of each other’s blood staved off the effects of the separation for a while. A week, to be more specific, but after that the aches and pains came back tenfold, almost like a downhill rush off a high.

They’d concluded that staying apart for longer than a week was practically a death sentence. And, to be honest, Blaine and Kurt both only lived and breathed for their hour long Sunday visits.

* * *

The trial was set for a Wednesday, of all days, and Kurt was worried beyond belief. He already knew Blaine was going to be convicted—this far in, he’d be kidding himself to think otherwise—but what if they gave him the death sentence? What if they slammed him with the maximum amount of years in jail they could give—what would that do to their relationship?

How the hell were they going to get through this?

Kurt nervously fiddled with the frilled ends of the scarf lightly draped around his neck as he watched as the courtroom slowly started to fill with supporters and naysayers alike. His gaze immediately shot down to his lap when he spotted a few of Blaine’s friends giving him dirty looks from across the room, and felt his eyes start to well up even as he tried to ignore them.

He knew they probably didn’t know the truth—that this wasn’t Kurt’s fault. That he actually, legitimately, didn’t want Blaine to be sent to prison or… _die_. That Kurt had tried his best to get his father to throw out the case, to spend time with Blaine just so that he could see what an amazing person he was even despite all the horrible things he’d done.

He _knew_ they probably didn’t know that, because the only people that were allowed to visit Blaine in his holding cell were his family and Kurt. But that didn’t stop their obvious assumptions from hurting him. Adding the fact that Kurt had been starting to become friends with them as well only made it worse.

“Hey!”

Kurt looked up, startled, immediately locking eyes with Cooper, who was looming over him with a bright, warm and welcoming grin even despite the time and place. He stood up to greet him, his knees wobbling a little as he brushed off his pants and stuck out his hand. “H-Hey—”

Cooper frowned a little at Kurt’s outstretched hand, squishing it between their bodies as he wrapped Kurt in a tight hug. Kurt felt himself relax fully at his reassuring touch, raising his arms up to squeeze him around the middle as well. “You doing okay?” Cooper mumbled into his hair, then pulled back so that he could meet his gaze.

Kurt nodded quickly. “I’m fine. I think I—I…” His voice died on a soft squeak when he looked off over Cooper’s shoulder and spotted Blaine’s parents only a few feet behind him. “Um.” He pulled away from Cooper, taking a small step back away from him. “I think I should—”

“Kurt.” His gaze immediately shot back up to Cooper’s at the seriousness of his tone. “My parents aren’t mad at you. Neither am I, for that matter, because, Kurt—none of this has anything to do with you.” He sighed a little, rolling his eyes with a small, mirthless smirk. “I’m not afraid to admit that my little brother is a jerk, and what he did to you wasn’t right.”

Kurt swallowed hard as his eyes started to burn—but he refused to let the tears fall. He’d done his fair share of crying over the last few months. “I… Thanks, I guess.” He said quietly.

Cooper laughed. “You don’t have to _thank_ us. Come on, let’s sit down.”

The four of them sat down, Finn and Carole joining them ten minutes later. Kurt caught sight of his dad a few benches ahead of them, just behind the barrier separating the general seating from the plaintiff and defender’s stand.

In any other case, it’d likely be Kurt’s dad up on the judges stand—seeing as he was Minister of Magic—but he hadn’t been allowed to this time because of his “closeness” to the case. Kurt stared at him for a moment before his attention was drawn away by a door opening on the side of the courtroom. Blaine was led into the room by an armed guard, looking cleaner than he had any other time Kurt had seen him over the last few months. He was dressed in a dark jumpsuit Kurt had never seen him in before, his wrists bound magically in front of him.

Kurt could see, even from this far away, the way that Blaine’s nostrils flared as he scented the air. His head whipped back and forth as he quickly scanned over the crowd before he finally found who he was looking for. Kurt bit his lip into a small smile as Blaine met his gaze and the other boy smiled widely back, lifting his bound hands to give him an exaggerated finger wave.

Cooper chuckled quietly from his spot beside Kurt, shaking his head. “You two, I swear.”

The trial itself ended up being more of a reading of all the laws that Blaine had broken, as the veela had already admitted to everything, and was (for reasons that Kurt was still unaware of) willing and ready to accept any type of punishment he was given. The judge had only just left to go and determine what kind of sentence Blaine would get.

Kurt only became more and more nervous with every second that passed, and he figured it was starting to show, as Finn and Cooper kept giving him half-annoyed looks.

Cooper finally sighed a little and reached over and grabbed Kurt’s hand where it was twisting the hem of his shirt, his voice nothing short of a whisper when he leaned in and said, “He’s going to be fine, Kurt.”

“You don’t know that.” Kurt bit out, quite a bit sharper and louder than he’d initially intended. He gave him an apologetic glance, which was accepted with a small nod, and turned his gaze back up front to watch Blaine. “Sorry.” He said after a second. “I just don’t appreciate being given false hopes.”

Blaine’s brother hummed quietly. “Well, I can say for sure that we can cross _Avada Kedavra_ off the list.” He squeezed Kurt’s hand a little as he continued. “Your bond with Blaine is too new for them to attempt that. Killing him would either kill you too, or, at best, you’d end up in the mental ward at St. Mungos.”

“So… jail time then?”

Cooper nodded. “Yeah. It’s just a question of how many years he’ll get, and which prison they’ll send him to.”

Kurt didn’t bother to respond, but he was secretly hoping that they wouldn’t end up sending him to Azkaban. Only one other jail had been built after the war to keep up with the overcrowding that had occurred after all the death eaters and accomplices to Voldemort had been charged. The new jail wasn’t amazing, but it was surely better than what Kurt knew Azkaban to be.

It was another half hour before the judge again graced the courtroom with his presence. He sat down behind the judges stand, and Kurt felt his entire body go stiff as the man opened his mouth to speak.

“This has… by far. Been one of the strangest Unsolicited Claiming cases I’ve seen. It was a bit difficult for me to decide what to do with Mr. Anderson, because he’s so young, and because the mating between he and Mr. Hummel only occurred a short while ago.” The man cleared his throat, pushing his thick framed glasses further up the perch of his nose. “So with that in mind, and after speaking with Mr. Hummel’s father… It’s been decided that Blaine Devon Anderson will serve two years in our most recently built maximum security prison.”

The bang of the gavel startled him almost as much as Finn’s arms around him did. He hugged his brother back distractedly, unable to pay attention to the other boy’s ramblings for long before his attention was stolen away by his boyfriend being led by a guard out of the courtroom.

As if he’d felt Kurt’s gaze on him, Blaine jerked around in the guards hold, his gaze immediately shooting to his mate. He stared for a moment before his head tilted in a curt, barely perceptible nod and he lifted his bound hands in a still wave.

Kurt lifted his hand, waving back even as he felt tears cloud his eyes as Blaine was pulled out of the room, out of sight. “Cooper, can’t we—”

Cooper shook his head, staring off into the direction that Blaine had disappeared off to as well. “We’ll see him soon enough, Kurt.”

“Y-Yeah?” Kurt asked, his voice high and hopeful.

Cooper glanced at him, forcing a small smile. “Yeah.”

* * *

 _Seven months_.

Kurt glanced nervously around Blaine’s cell, at the twin sized mattress lying on the floor shoved in the corner, the blankets a bit rumpled and hap hazardously strewn across it. There was an opaque privacy curtain in the opposite corner, shielding the toilet, sink, and a small, dank mirror. There wasn’t much else in Blaine’s cell, unless you counted he and Blaine, now.

Kurt had been in Blaine’s cell a number of times over the past months, but it never failed to worry him how little there was to see whenever he visited. And if he would’ve been allowed, he probably would’ve brought a few things with him to brighten up the space.

But even still… “Are you sure you’re—”

“I’m fine here, Kurt.” Blaine said, slipping his arms from around his boyfriend’s waist and moving across the room to plop down on the mattress. “Seriously.”

Kurt sat down next to him, fingering the blanket between his thumb and forefinger, more than a little appalled at how thin the thing was. “You don’t get too cold at night, do you? I—I could bring you more blankets if you—”

“Babe.” Blaine said, letting out a little laugh and pressing his lips against Kurt’s cheek. “I think I’m okay. Are you really gonna ask me that every time you come, now?”

“Sorry.” Kurt laughed himself before settling into Blaine’s side. “I just worry.”

“I know you do.” Blaine kissed his cheek again and buried his nose in his chestnut hair. “And I love you for it.”

“Mmm.”

It was Sunday, and both Kurt and Blaine had both been looking forward to seeing each other after a long week apart. Their visits had long since been restricted to a single hour, ever since his initial visit to Blaine, when Finn had helped him sneak into the Ministry.

The hour was well spent, catching up, the both of them purposely skirting around the thing weighing on both of their minds until…

“Do you feel it too?” Blaine asked suddenly, when they were silently counting down the last few minutes of their visit.

Kurt’s grip tightened in the fabric of Blaine’s jumper, and he tilted his head in a nod. “Yeah.”

“It’s… getting easier for us to be apart.” Blaine stated, after a moment. “It doesn’t mean our—our soul mate bond is getting weaker. It just means we can… start staying apart for longer periods of time and I…”

Kurt pulled away from Blaine slowly, trying to catch the other boy’s gaze, but he wouldn’t look at him. “And you what?” He asked, his voice shaking. But he couldn’t help it—this was starting to sound a lot like one of those break ups he’d always seen on films at the cinema.

Blaine blinked, his gaze falling to his lap, but Kurt still wasn’t able to pick up a single emotion from his placid expression. “And I… think that we should. Start spending less time together.”

Kurt looked down too, though it was more so Blaine didn’t see his tears than anything else. His voice was smaller than he’d ever heard it when he spoke up after an awkward, tense silence. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“No…” Blaine said quietly, and Kurt felt himself relax until, “I’m letting you go.”

Kurt jumped up, jerking away when Blaine made to reach for his hand. “Is that not the same thing?” He shouted. “Blaine, what the _fuck_?”

Blaine looked up at him, his eyes suspiciously misty. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re _not_.” Kurt hissed, because if it was one thing Kurt knew, it was when the veela was lying. He folded his arms across his chest defensively, dealing Blaine his best glare. “So, what is it, then?” He continued. “Did I do something to piss you off?”

“Kurt, no—”

“No?” Kurt nodded jerkily, glancing off outside the narrow bars to the guard at the door. “You find someone better here, then?” He turned back to Blaine, then, his heart squeezing in his chest at the thought. “Someone you like better? Someone that actually fucking puts out?”

Blaine shook his head, his eyes wide. “Kurt—”

“What is it, Blaine?” Kurt’s voice cracked halfway through the shout, and he took a step back away from Blaine when he stood, his arms tightening around his midsection as he started to cry in earnest.

“Mr. Hummel?” The guard called out, taking a step forward, away from his post. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

The man looked between Kurt and Blaine, his eyes narrowing. “I think it’s time for you to leave, now.”

“No.” Kurt hissed, then turned back to Blaine. “I’m not leaving here until you give me a proper explanation.”

Blaine sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Kurt—”

“ _Now_ , Blaine.”

Blaine bit his lip, his eyes still misting, and just as the guard opened his mouth to speak again, he spoke up quickly, “I don’t want you to be tied down to me, okay? Because you’re never going to be truly comfortable, after what I did, and I don’t want to put you through that, Kurt. I’m sorry.”

Kurt looked back at him, his edge softening only slightly at the other boy’s words. “But what about what _I_ want?”

Blaine stared at him for a long second before shaking his head. “I can’t.”

“Blaine—”

“Kurt, I said no! Fuck.”

Kurt felt his throat start to tighten uncomfortably, and he didn’t want to be _that_ guy, but here he was. “You’re not breaking up with me.” He said, his voice thick. “I won’t let you. Not if that’s your reason.”

“It’s—it’s for the best, Kurt. You deserve better. Than me.” Blaine waved his hand, gesturing the cell. “Than _this_. I’m here for two years, Kurt. And I’m not going to let you waste your time here with me.”

“Blaine—” Kurt tried. “Blaine, I—”

“I want you to go, Kurt.” Blaine said, though his face betrayed the sentiment. “I really, really do. I want you to go, and find some guy—” He froze, his finger halting in its pointed pointing as his eyebrows cinched together and he growled, “ _Not, Kiehl_ —but someone. And I want you to settle down and get married and have kids or whatever. I just want you to have a life.” He swallowed heavily, his eyelids fluttering shut, a few tears escaping passed the tightly shut lids. “And you’re not gonna have one, if you keep worrying about me, here. So I’m letting you go.”

“Mr. Hummel—”

Kurt ignored the guard as he rushed forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Blaine, sobbing into his shoulder. “I fucking hate you.”

“I know.” Blaine chuckled wetly, his breath hitching a little as his arms came up to hold Kurt. “I know you do.”

“And I’m still going to visit, even if we’re not boyfriends anymore.” Kurt continued, his voice muffled by Blaine’s shoulder, but he knew the veela could still understand him.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Mr. Hummel.” The guard said, and both Kurt and Blaine startled apart. “I won’t be asking you again.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, hugging Blaine tightly again before pulling away and stalking over to the entrance of the cell. He glanced back at him while the guard worked on the locks. “I don’t like this.” He stated finally with a sigh, reaching up to rub his chest when his heart gave a dull, aching beat. “It’s weird.”

“It is.” Blaine agreed, and stared after Kurt as he was led out of the cell. He waited until it was completely shut again before moving towards the bars, his hand coming up to wrap around the cool metal. “And I-I know I shouldn’t, that I’m not allowed to anymore, but Kurt… I really do love you.”

Kurt glanced back at him, already at the door leading out into the main. “I know.” He said, softly. He resisted when the guard tried to forcefully push him out of the room, grabbing on to the doorjamb and hesitating for a split second before, “I really love you too.”

* * *

 _One year_.

Kurt thought it was a bit weird, visiting Blaine when they weren’t boyfriends anymore. The veela no longer told him he loved him every given second, or kissed him mid-sentence every time he was saying something silly. Blaine hardly ever even initiated cuddles between them anymore, even though Kurt knew how much the other boy had liked them.

Blaine was keeping his distance, and Kurt wasn’t completely sure how he felt about that.

The visits weren’t awkward now, it was just strange for Kurt to be around Blaine and not have all the things he’d become accustomed to. It hurt a little, of course it did, that Blaine didn’t want to be with him like that anymore, but he guessed he could understand the other boy’s reasoning, even if he didn’t agree with it, or _like_ it, for that matter.

Kurt sighed a little to himself as he walked up the path to the doors of the prison, wondering what the hell he had been thinking wearing these types of robes mid-summer. He assumed he hadn’t been, and blamed the mishap on the fact that he was nervous—and had every right to be. He hadn’t been in to visit Blaine in just over three weeks, and he knew he had no proper reason to be nervous like this, not really—he and Blaine were practically best friends—but that didn’t take away from the fact that he still was.

“Hey, Mr. Hummel.” Blaine’s usual guard greeted him, his expression suspiciously bright. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around here.”

Kurt nodded a little and gave a small smile, just enough to get him by the man and into Blaine’s room.

It only took the man a second to realize that Kurt wasn’t going to respond before he gave a nervous chuckle and, “I’m not sure if you’ve been notified, but Mr. Anderson’s got himself a roommate.”

Kurt felt himself go tense at the shady lilt of the other man’s tone, his gaze immediately shooting to the door behind him. “A-A roommate?”

“Yep.” The guard smiled, showing off his crooked teeth. “They’re a bit busy.”

Kurt felt himself go hot allover, first with anger, then with crushing sadness. “I-I…”

“Sorry.” The man shrugged. “But I’d be breaking a few codes if I let you in there right now.”

“Oh.” Kurt felt his tears dry, the achy, sad feeling leaving him as he stared at the guard for a little bit longer, unblinking. He realized with sudden clarity that the man was lying, and for some reason, trying to fuck him over. Kurt had been around veelas far too much over the past year for him not to pick up on subtle ticks, and this guard had many.

Kurt squared his shoulders, looking the man dead in the eye as he said, “Let me in.”

“Mr. Hummel—” The guard looked a little bit startled, at that. “I just told you—”

“Let me in. Now.” Kurt stared at him for a second longer, waiting for him to move and when he didn’t, “Or would you like for me to notify my father that you’re pissing off your job? That you think it’s funny to fuck around with me like this?”

The man’s eyes were wider than Kurt had ever seen them, but he still didn’t make a move to open the door. “Kurt—”

Kurt’s eyes flashed at that, and in that next second, his wand was pointed directly in the man’s face. “Open the fucking door, right now, Adam. Or I will fucking _end_ you.”

Adam scrambled to unlock the door, pulling it open with a loud, eerie squeak. Kurt shoved him back towards the door once he had Blaine’s cell unlocked, gesturing between him and it with his wand. “You can go.”

The man looked back at him, every sinew of his body practically screaming defiance. “I’m supposed to stay here.”

“I think we’re fine.” Kurt hissed, jumping a little when he felt Blaine’s hand on his arm.

“Kurt, it’s okay.”

“No it’s _not_.”

“Hey, hey…” Blaine pulled them back into the cell under Adam’s watchful, and smug, gaze, wrapping his arm around Kurt’s shoulders and asking quietly, “What’s going on?”

“He tried to lie to me and say you were—were…”

“What?”

“Sleeping with someone.” Kurt whispered, and felt Blaine go tense against his side for a split second.

The veelas next breath came out as a low growl, but when he spoke his voice was normal. “Oh, Kurt. You know I’d never do anything like that without checking with you first.”

Kurt had the sudden urge to ask why the hell Blaine would be checking with him, as it wasn’t his body, or his life, but he guessed he understood. Because he wouldn’t do anything like that without asking Blaine if it was okay first, either.

“Don’t pay attention to him, anyway.” Blaine continued after a long, silent pause. “He just wants something that he can’t have.”

Kurt snorted at the implication. “Me? Yeah, right.”

Blaine hummed a little to himself and drew his arm away, moving back on the mattress so that he could lean up against the wall. His eyes slipped shut for a second, then fluttered open, the look behind them a bit fond as he turned to gaze at Kurt.

“So how was graduation?”

Kurt brightened immediately, giving Blaine his earlier promised recap. Blaine laughed loudly as Kurt told him about the hideous dress Rachel had worn, along with the nearly six-inch platform heels she’d fallen flat on her face in.

Later, Kurt smiled through a story Blaine was telling him about one of the other inmates he’d made friends with, while secretly admiring both his and Blaine’s ability to bounce back so quickly, after everything.

He was glad that they were here, in this moment, and yeah, maybe the place and the circumstances weren’t completely ideal. And maybe the way they’d gotten here wasn’t exactly ideal either. Kurt was just glad that they _were_ here.

Kurt could hardly recall a moment when Blaine hadn’t been such a huge facet in his life; Couldn’t recall a moment when they hadn’t been like this, with each other. And, maybe right now, or maybe just in general, the two of them weren’t very compatible, romantically. But Kurt knew, that if they could have this, this happiness, this closeness, right now, that they’d be all right in the long run.

The thought made him warm; knowing that he and Blaine would always be this way just made him happy.

Blaine stopped mid-sentence, giving Kurt a curious look when he caught sight of the dopey tint to his grin. He laughed a little, “What’re you thinking about?”

Kurt’s smile widened, because Blaine just knew him so well. “Nothing. I’m just… glad that we’re friends.”

Blaine bit his lip, the look on his face a little more serious than it should’ve been given the situation, but he reached out and touched Kurt’s hand, squeezing gently.

“Me too.”

(Song: To Build a Home – Cinematic Orchestra)


End file.
